Variety Familiar
by codename Poltergeiist
Summary: The War for Cybertron is over, but the Autobot's victory wasn't what it was supposed to be. Still fighting for planet Earth from a far removed base, Optimus and his team struggle with their past decisions and the consequences they will have on the future. But when N.E.S.T. detains a teenager on accusations of being a security risk, life ironically starts to look a little brighter.
1. Introduction

**VARIETY FAMILIAR, INTRODUCTION.**  
2:36 AM on October 3rd.  
Temporary Autobot Headquarters in Bluff, Utah.

And so the time has come, it's here.  
The silence ends, change is near.  
–Welcome to the Universe, 30 Seconds to Mars.

* * *

Optimus' expression gave very little away, much to Jolt's dismay. The Prime just stood there before the wall mounted screen with its flashing orange surface, Cybertronian characters blinking excitedly and illuminating the dimly lit room. Jolt wished he would say something, _anything._ He also wished that Ratchet was here, because this sort of responsibility wasn't one that the Medic's apprentice had signed up for, at least not yet. It would take a long time for the ex-Decepticon to grow comfortable being this trusted or relied upon by Optimus fragging Prime of all bots. And even then, this wasn't in either of their job descriptions. Security, observation, border patrol…whatever it was. Jolt stopped himself from vocalizing the question again, Prime wasn't deaf. He was processing, hopefully.

Whirring and clicking disturbed the prolonged silence, as Optimus rolled his head on his shoulders, humming thoughtfully. The leader's piercing blue optics fell on the younger Autobot, mouthplates parted to speak, "You are sure there is no other way to identify the passenger?" his voice was deep and surprisingly rich, the gravelly mechanical undertones hard to miss. He might never get used to being consulted by a Prime, Jolt reasoned. "No, I'm afraid not. We could send a transmission, but given that the pod hasn't been activated despite arrival approximately less than a joor* ago…I think we need to send a team to check it out."

The Autobot leader's audio-receptors adjusted at his subordinate's hesitant tone, he brought up a servo to rub at the bridge of his nose in mild frustration. Letting air pass over his vents, he relaxed on his pedes causing a soft hissing sound in the action as he turned his chassis to leave the ground bridge's operating deck. "You have my thanks, Jolt. I will gather a few volunteers immediately." A pause, it looked as if the red flame painted blue Mech wanted to say more, but instead a data-burst file of sincere appreciation and consolation was sent to Jolt as Optimus exited through the automatic parting panels of the metal doors.

It was unexpected, though not unwanted. Jolt knew he wasn't as good at these tasks as Prowl used to be, or Ratchet, when he was here. It was stressful at times, wondering if Prime thought he was worth it as an ex-Decepticon that could barely do the whole job. If he was Prime, he would have already offlined him and drained him of his energon. The acknowledgement was nice to say the least, and Jolt wasn't going to say one word more than that. Some things _were_ better left to passing data-burst files. The blue medic apprentice went back to surveying the screens by the ground bridge, he had little to do outside of watching, some nights he thought his optics would fail before the rest of him and that he would have no way to replace them but fumble in blindness until Ratchet came back. Truthfully, confiding in himself, Jolt didn't believe that Ratchet was ever going to return to Earth after leaving Cybertron on the _Lost Light_ with Rodimus and his crew. He looked tired, the kind of tired a recharge couldn't fix. Jolt's red optics flickered to the door across the deck, considering the berths that lay beyond, somewhere down the hallway. If he didn't take care of himself he knew he could end up the same way. Worn down and exhausted, but he wanted to know who Prime was going to send to investigate the Cybertronian pod that had made contact with the surface sixty four miles from their current location only recently. The craft might still be warm to the touch when the team found it. Sideswipe would want to go; three black clawed digits grasped the edge of the table the screens were mounted above, Jolt's white painted browplates came together in concern. For the first time in a long time, he wanted to see the other twin from Kaon again.

Optimus Prime stood on the smooth concrete foundation of the basement floor, watching as the red sand blew in from under the large hangar doors and dusted over the stark white and yellow lines. He had contacted several Autobots in base over the open com line, briefly touching on the situation before telling them to gather here in the underground exit. There was no need to waste their dwindling power supplies on starting up the ground bridge when the distance to the pod was, comparatively, a short drive away. He knew tensions were high, between the recent loss of Ratchet and the lack of energon sources. Ratchet leaving hit the Autobots hard, they may have won their war for Cybertron and freed the NAILs* and themselves from the caste system, but somehow, it felt like a hollow victory. Prime never dreamed that freedom and right of choice would come at such high costs. As Orion Pax, the Cybertron he envisioned, the vision he thought Megatron shared with him, was never quite as depressing as this. Shortly after going home he had left, for the greater good. If a more cliché reason couldn't be found, that was fine with the Mech. It was true; he left because the NAILs didn't want him on Cybertron, the war was over, who needed warriors anymore? He could understand that, he had played an important and significant role in starting and continuing the war. Cybertronians were famous for their millions of years of infighting, another unpredictable side effect. It wasn't supposed to come to a close like this, it was supposed to be peaceful and simple and…relieving. Megatron had called him naïve once, back when he was called Orion Pax, and he couldn't argue with such a statement now. The Decepticon was right; Orion Pax _was_ naïve and he still dwelled within the hardened leader Optimus Pime. War was inevitable at the time, but he could easily imagine Alpha Trion at his desk in the Hall of Records at Iacon after all of this time, scratching away in his great book with that stylus of his. Recording all he had learned in the Covenant of Primus, the detailed history of Cybertron. Longing filled Optimus Prime at that old memory, longing for his home and for the friends he had lost and those that had left. But Earth needed him now with the Decepticons hanging on to the idea of forging a new home here, at the decimation and enslavement of the Humans. It was something Prime could never allow, welcomed back to Cybertron or not, he refused to abandon this race and surrender them to a ruthless enemy he helped create.

The Mech looked up towards the sound of an engine roaring down the lit tunnel way, headlights flashing into the cavern where Optimus Prime waited patiently. The bright red Lamborghini Aventador LP 700-4 drifted to a stop, tires smoking and leaving bold black tracks on the floor, spreading the sand that had gathered in a cloud with the gust of air it brought with it. Prime saw this coming, he just wished there was another way to face it. "Those tires won't last long if abused." He reprimanded lightly, a frown on his mouthplates.

The supercar lurched and lowered on its wheels with a hiss from the engine pistons, the suicide doors popping open and raising; a strange sound then filled the cavern, echoing off the smooth red stone walls with an eerily mechanical clicking that wove in with a tone not unlike that of a zipper. The car's paneling came apart at the seams, separating and sliding, shifting into a bipedal humanoid form in seconds. The bot that appeared in the vehicles place was shorter than the Prime, his chassis more rounded than squared. His optics were glowing the same intelligent blue shade as the other, but his pedes had wheels at their support base, his own weight the only thing keeping them from rolling. His voice was shockingly smooth and sharp, though at this moment young and persistent sounding, when he spoke it wavered with desperation, "Optimus you have to let me go, it could be him. With a proximity this close? It _has_ to be him."

Three more vehicles rumbled into the cavern just as Sideswipe swiveled on his wheels to stand next to Prime, they transformed partway across from the pair, still in motion. A yellow and black painted Autobot was among them, his radio broadcasting a grainy clip, "_Oh baby oh, you don't knooow!_" the singer's chorus rang out, too crisp to be an actual vocal from any of the bots in the room. His door wings wavered tensely, apologetically.

"Bumblebee is right Sides; there are thousands of Cybertronians out there looking for asylum. There is no way of knowing if it's _him_ or a _Decepticon._" a primarily white Mech defended the mute scout. Thin stripes of orange and deep blue running down the left side of his chestplate identified him as Smokescreen. Behind him, Arcee stood quietly, observing. She looked sympathetic, which irritated Sideswipe more than the skepticism of his other two teammates. "If it _is_ a Decepticon, I'll make sure the slaghead doesn't get too far." He growled back menacingly, his words a promise. Smokescreen fell silent, unnerved by the sudden display of aggression. It wasn't a secret that as long as his twin was apart from him, Sideswipe was unpredictable and unstable, eager for a clash of any kind. Whether this was his best coping method from his past in the pits of Kaon it was hard to say, but not many Autobots on base wanted to engage with the Lamborghini when he was this revved up. Bee whistled lowly through his damaged vocals, another broadcast echoed around them and bounced off the walls, "_Your thoughts, Captain?_"

Optimus Prime had more than enough thoughts on the situation to keep them here for the rest of the night, but they would have to remain unspoken. He understood the emotions Sideswipe was fighting; he understood why the bot was determined to believe this newcomer was his twin brother, Sunstreaker. However, it pained Prime to see how deluded one of his finest became under desperation. Sunstreaker left with Ratchet aboard the _Lost Light _five Earth years ago, if he wanted to return, why was there no signal? Why didn't he contact them first? More importantly, if this were Sideswipe's twin, why didn't he open their bond as soon as he entered the planet's atmosphere? The pod's passenger could be anybody, an Autobot or a Decepticon, possibly a NAIL, but it was not Sunstreaker. He was certain, though it didn't matter outside of this moment because _someone_ was in that pod and they needed to get them out before sunrise. The metal in his joints groaned when he shifted his weight, "Arcee, Smokescreen, and Sideswipe. You three will investigate the pod roughly sixty four miles from here, outside a small Human population called Cortez." He ignored the sound of Sides' engine revving triumphantly, projecting a blue map from his optics, "If we are dealing with an allied Autobot or a NAIL, bring them back here for assist."

Arcee stepped forward with her arms crossed and expression firm, feminine voice strong as she looked up at Optimus who closed out the map, "And if we find ourselves uncovering a 'Con?"

Bumblebee answered for him, the radio static crackling sharply as it rebounded all around the cavern, slamming his face shield over his optics at the same time, Bee never looked more like the insect he was named after, "_Another one bites the dust._"

* * *

*about 6.5 Earth hours.  
*one of Prowl's acronyms, meaning "Non-Affiliated Indigenous Life-Form."


	2. Chapter One

**VARIETY FAMILIAR, CHAPTER ONE.**  
Somewhere in McElmo Canyon, outside of Cortez, Colorado.

I've been let loose and now I'm crawling up the walls.  
Word is I got away and now I must be caught.  
–One of Those Nights, The Cab.

* * *

Sideswipe's engine accelerated, his alt-mode tires gripping the asphalt and propelling him forward at what he knew to be faster than was safe on this constantly curving road. He felt himself skid to the side dangerously as he turned a particularly tight corner, Arcee pinged his processor then, but he ignored it. The blue and pink accented Yamaha YZF-R6 motorcycle sailed past him on the next turn, buzzing loudly while the hologram* rider gave him a very Human gesture, one of the digits on her hand raised rudely. Sideswipe wished he could return it, but settled for tailgating her when she brought the speed down fewer than eighty. The femme pinged him again, and this time he let it through.

**:: **_Sides, I know you're impatient, but you're going to blow a tire or end up shaking servos with a guardrail before we get close. _**::**

Smokescreen cut in, his headlights flashing from behind them and casting blurred shadows against the trees they were flying past, Sideswipe couldn't recall nights on Cybertron ever being this dark, **::** _We're coming up on it in about, seven or eight miles. Slow the frag down._ **::**

Sideswipe reeled inwardly, his spark felt tight with anxiety and anticipation, **::** _That wasn't sixty four miles._ **::**

Arcee swerved in her lane ahead of him, taillight flaring red momentarily, **::** _Prime did say 'roughly'. So it was closer, no big deal._ **::**

**::** _It's Sunny. Believe me._ **::**

**::** _We want to._ **::** Smokescreen pinged back; the transmission was fleeting in his processor, light and weightless. Like it was whispered or mumbled, and Arcee didn't add to it. Smokescreen's alt-mode, a McLauren MP4 12C, passed him and fell in behind the motorcycle to set a slower pace. It felt like they were driving through energon, its thickness coating their tires and sticking to their transformation cogs, forcing stagnancy. Sideswipe couldn't help but envy the air savvy Decepticon seeker Starscream for an astrosecond, what he wouldn't give to blow by this narrow canyon and shoot clear through to the other side. Patient had never been a word used to describe either of the twins, and it didn't look like that was about to change anytime soon.

Back on Cybertron the two were inseparable; they looked out for each other. Before the war they had no other choice, Kaon was dangerous and unpredictable. It only grew worse as a newcomer to the gladiatorial pits, known then as Megatronus, began causing problems. Sideswipe was uncomfortable remembering how he and Sunstreaker agreed with what he had said, the goals he pushed for and the ideals he preached. And as long as they believed that, the pair was safe in the Badlands. They looked up to him and they wanted him to succeed more than anything, beyond that, they feared the day when they might have no choice but to fight him in the pits. He was undefeated and terrifying, not long after claiming a name that belonged to one of the Thirteen Primes, the crowds of Cybertronians began chanting 'Megatron' after his victories instead. An unnamed lower caste, claiming a name of his own and without asking any authority for permission or approval? It was enamoring at the time, although the admittance disgusted Sideswipe now. Orion Pax though, now there was a leader. He remembered when he and his brother first saw the data clerk; they were unimpressed and expecting more. But the longer Pax was around, the more he talked. And the more he talked, the more Sideswipe and Sunstreaker believed in him over Megatron. They found themselves wanting to follow him, to support him; they wanted to fight for this data clerk from Iacon instead. A leader they didn't have to fear, one that spoke of equality for all Cybertronians and the freedom to _choose_. And his methods put the well being of all castes and all sentient beings first; war was the inevitable outcome, but far from his intention. Megatron and his Decepticons spoke of similar, but their methods were violent and detrimental. Death was going to be present one way or another and if Megatron had his way, he would bring thousands of Cybertronians to their knees. In the end, Sideswipe supposed that was exactly what he did. When the High Council named Orion Pax the next Prime, Optimus Prime, the twins knew they would follow him into hell and take Megatron and his Cons with them. No contest. Ending up on Earth, trailing after the Allspark the Autobots ejected from the body of Cybertron, that was a surprise.

After the war…after the war everything was different. Cybertron was restored, or at least, in the process of being restored. The Autobots held the planet with the best of intentions, keeping order and exercising the rights they had won. Then the NAILs that had fled to safety during the chaos had returned, and they wanted Optimus Prime gone. He was a hate figure, just as responsible for the destruction as Megatron in their optics. Many things happened between then and now, Prime came back to Earth after voluntarily leaving Cybertron, and a lot of the Autobots went with him. A lot didn't. Some left with Rodimus shortly after Prime faded off scene, chasing their tailpipes on the _Lost Light _in search of myths, the Knights of Cybertron. Please. It was all scripted, Bee said it himself, Drift writes Rodimus' speeches for him. This made it sting more than it should have when Ratchet and Sunstreaker decided to leave. Sideswipe wasn't a sparkling, hadn't been for a few million years, but he still wanted his brother around. They had been apart plenty of times before, on missions or for other reasons. It wasn't a big deal, but this time was different. This was further and longer than they had ever been before, too far for the twin bond they shared to work. When the _Lost Light_ launched into the sky, when it went too far to see, Sideswipe could feel the bond fade. It left a vacant space in his processor, like an empty wall you knew should have a piece of art, but didn't. He was lost in that corner of his helm, so he left it. Blocked it off and ignored it, because trying to hide it was easier than walking past it every cycle. He never felt more betrayed in his life, and he wondered how Sunstreaker managed _his_ empty wall, what did _he_ pile up there to paint the place? Not that the answer mattered anymore, he was back. Sideswipe was sure of it; this pod they were headed for, it was an escape pod. No one specified that at base, but it was obvious. The small size, lack of weaponry, automatically deployed beacon, mapping systems online? Text book escape pod, and if any Cybertronian was going to send off a ship to intentionally land on planet Earth this close to an Autobot base, it was Sunstreaker. He had already run a program to simulate all of the logical reasons they weren't contacted first, and there were hundreds of them. Not the twin bond though, there was no explanation for that outside of Sunny being offline or angry with him. And he wouldn't be shocked to find his brother ignoring him because he was that brand of jerk, it would be one hundred percent in character for him, the stupid glitch. The first thing Sideswipe wanted to do when he pulled his brother from that pod was kick his aft, if he wasn't injured. He had things he wanted to say, to talk about, he had punches to throw and probably more than a few to take.

Arcee pulled over onto the road's abused shoulder, a wide expanse of gravel that hugged the pavement in a kidney shape. Bordering the opposite side, red dirt, shrubby juniper trees, sage brush and queer slick rock formations consumed the uneven landscape. Smokescreen and Sideswipe pulled in behind her, the trio already transforming into their bipedal forms under the ambient light of the moon. Smokescreen gave the tiniest shake of his helm, a servo making a cutting motion over the headlights on either side of his chestplates. A sign to keep off the brights, as his side helmlights blinked to life and flew into the trees like a torch. Containing a snort at his professionalism, Sideswipe led the way off the shoulder and towards the blinking beacon shown on the map his optics displayed. It wasn't too far, less than a mile off the road, but even with the Autobots' long strides Sideswipe felt like they had been walking for ages before reaching the pod. They had found its track first, a massively long and wide black scar tearing into the organic Earth, a few bits of flaming twigs rested in the gorge of the path, twinkling in the night. Arcee made a face before stepping pointedly on all the burning spots, extinguishing them. Smokescreen grinned at her, pinging their open com line, **::** _Earth's next top Prime!_ **::**

**::** _Your rookie is showing._ **:: **She sent back with a roll of her blue optics. The transmission then continued into a more serious tone, it's volume seemingly lowering despite being nonphysical, the motorcycle inquired gently, **::** _Sideswipe, are you…?_ **::**

The red warrior stirred, his weapons systems coming online as a precaution, briefly startling his companions. His com voice was strained, **::** _No. I'm not getting, or feeling, anything. It's dead, there's nothing there. I'm sending off, I mean, I-i'm putting out everything._ **::** he dumped, and he didn't want to, he just couldn't reel in his words at the same moment they came out. He never slipped like that, and it wouldn't happen again, he told himself angrily. The twin bond was still as inactive as before, if it is Sunny in that pod…if Sunny was ignoring him, Sideswipe was going to beat the slag off his face. Arcee didn't ping the com line back again, but the look she and Smokescreen exchanged made him self conscious, it was one of pity. They _pitied_ him.

Approaching the final resting spot of the pod at the end of its crash trail, the three bots fanned out, forming a semi-circle at its thrusters. The craft was barely smoking; a few hours in cool October temperatures had eased the duration of the punishment Earth's atmosphere dealt upon entry. Walking around to the front and placing a servo on it, Sideswipe could feel heat coming off the metal in lazy waves. He turned his chassis to view Arcee, tossing her a quick jerk of his helm as his other servo found it's way to the hatch mechanism, **::** _Get over here, I'm going to need help pulling him out._ **::**

She was there immediately, standing to the left side of the pod, **::** _Smokescreen, ion cannons sharp, but for the love of Primus not too sharp._ **:: **the McLauren grimaced at her jab, his right servo retracting into his forearm while a rotating cannon barrel replaced it with a mechanical whine.

Sideswipe didn't waste anymore time, the suspense long dead, he pulled back the handle lever on the craft's nose and pulled off the window shield casing. The twisted hardware underneath began to shift, transforming to unlock and open the cockpit. Upon revealing the Cybertronian inside, Sideswipe's spark dimmed, the first thing that hit his processor was the lack of flashing yellow paint. He could feel Smokescreen's tense inquiring stare from across the pod, but he didn't look up to meet it. He was also vaguely aware of Arcee beginning to haul the passenger out of its prison, alone. Snapping out of his disappointment, he moved in to help her, grasping the grayish-blue bot by it's other arm, **::** _Sorry._ **::**

**::** _Sides, it's okay._ **::**

He nodded, unable to find his voice, physical or com, to reply. Gently placing the unconscious bot on the ground, they leaned it up against the side of the now contorted pod. Sideswipe looked it up and down, all angles and points, all sharp. It had pincers for servos, arched pedes, a light frame, and a helm with a single optic. On its protruding chestplate, a red Autobot symbol was glinting in the glare of Smokescreen's helmlights. The offender commed now, in shocked disbelief, **::** _Holy frag, is that Whirl?!_ **::  
**Sideswipe choked into the line, unable to tear his optics from the ex-Wrecker, **::** _When he comes back online, I'm going to offline him again._ **::**

Brushing off his threat, Arcee knelt in front of Whirl, scanning him for any dysfunctions or system glitches, **::** _Wasn't he on the Lost Light? Why would he be here, on this planet, in an escape pod?_ **::**

**:: **_I would bet you my last cube of energon that they shoved him into that thing and shot it off to absolutely nowhere specifically. _**:: **Sideswipe said dryly.  
Whirl's yellow optic began to glow steadily as he weakly raised a pincer to point at the Lamborghini, stirring into their open com line with all of the mental grace of a drunk Human, **::** _Rude._ **::  
::** _Primus. Is he 'gone' or is he coming to?_ **:: **Smokescreen chimed, ion cannon collapsing back into his arm.  
Arcee shrugged, a servo resting on her hip, still crouched in front of the Mech, **::** _He wasn't strapped into the pod, so I imagine he got tossed around in there. And scans say he needs more energon, but he should be okay once we get him back to base._ **::**

**::** _Optimus is going to be so thrilled._ **::** Sideswipe jested, crossing his servos behind his helm and letting air run over his vents.

**::** _They have history?_ **::**

His processor ran over her transmission a couple of times, before realization struck, he spun on his wheels to laugh at her, **::** _Wait, you don't know? This is going to be really great._ **:: **his words sounded humorless, cold even. Arcee flinched at his tone, but took his lashing out as nothing personal, he was angry she knew, because his brother wasn't here after all.  
Whirl poked the channel again, with more energy and coordination than the last time, more content to communicate, **::** _I'm right here you know, with fully functional weapons systems, just laying that out on the table. The dirt, or whatever._ **::**

**::** _That's nice, slaghead. Now how long until you can get your alt-mode online?_ **::** Sideswipe threw back, his voice short and mocking.  
Smokescreen blinked a counter into their optic screens, quietly avoiding Sideswipe's attention as he and Arcee helped get Whirl back on his pedes, **::** _Approximately four cycles* until sunrise._ **::  
:: **_This_ _is exciting, are we on full blackout? It's weird to talk exclusively in coms. Swearing at Sides isn't as fulfilling. Frag you, Sides! Choke on Megatron's tiny di-_ **:: **

Arcee abruptly interrupted the ex-Wrecker before he could finish his tirade, **::** _Alright, scans are showing all of your major systems fully functional, still low on energon, but you can make it._ **::**

He gave her a dip of his head before dropping to the ground on his servos and pedes, causing her and Smokescreen to stumble away from their supportive positions by either of his arms. Whirl began transforming, parts moving about and his back rotors clicking into place with an eerie reeling sound. The Cybertronian grade helicopter's engine sprang to life, rumbling with power, the rotors spinning to pick up speed and blast gusts of air, his smug physical voice disturbed the previously blacked out clearing, "Dirtkissers.*" He hid poorly behind a series of metal clanging noises, on purpose, obviously. Sideswipe rolled his optics at Arcee and Smokescreen, who grimaced at him wearily, before they too transformed into their alt-modes.

**::** _Arcee to base, we're on route with an Autobot ally._ **::  
**

* * *

*hologram, a projected screen image lacking solidity. As opposed to a holoform, a nanoform with a Human likeness projected over it.  
*cycle, equivalent to one Earth hour.  
*dirtkisser, a derogatory slang among flyers for Transformers who cannot fly.

**Author's note:** Okay so, I'm not going to lie, I'm having a hella fun time writing this. I love the characters, love the interaction possibilities, it's just very fun to play with. Lots of internal dialog, as this is a post war/post event story in the beginning, we're dealing with the angsty leftovers. If you haven't picked up on it yet, this is a bayverse type setting with a lot of IDW More Than Meets the Eye arc and Transformers: Exodus here and there. I'm using a lot of old history for these lines, some headcanon, and some pure good old fashioned fanfiction circumstances. Let me know how you liked these past chapters? I'm experimental, so I'd like to know if this is working out, or if it's too much to take in all at once. Tell me your favorite lines from these past two chapters! I love writing the linessssss.  
/octopus arms ~o_O~**  
**


	3. Chapter Two

**VARIETY FAMILIAR, CHAPTER TWO.**  
9:00 AM on October 3rd.  
Bloomingdale, Washington DC.  
(Current time in Bluff, Utah, 7:00 AM)

We're only young and naïve still, we require certain skills.  
The mood it changes like the wind, hard to control when it begins.  
–Young Blood, the Naked & Famous.

* * *

Marvin Reeves worried her bottom lip with her teeth, gaze wandering down the street in a lackluster attempt to distract her from this morning's woes. It was hard to be a kid, and it was even harder to be a seventeen year old girl who was unpopular with the in crowd. Not that she thought her high school's cliques were the in crowd, because she knew they weren't. They were only treated as such by the other kids because it was high school and kids could be mean. But it was always easier when they defaulted to their normal apathetic behavior, leaving her alone, not paying any attention at all, that was comfortable and widely preferred. This was why days like the first Thursdays of the month were best avoided rather than faced, she thought numbly while watching a classic white 1972 Chevrolet pickup putt-putt to the curb in front of the formidable brick and pillar school building. The car's rusting paint looked stark against the tall multicolored compact houses behind it, skeleton trees clattering in the breeze.

An older-aged driver wearing an equally old brown leather pilot's jacket exited the vehicle, door complaining loudly as he shut it. Upon seeing her sitting on the building's steps, hugging her knees and placing her chin on them, he sighed heavily, removing his faded ball cap to run a hand over his bald head. He didn't speak to her right away, taking the time to walk up and sit next to her on the cold concrete steps, with effort and an exhale of air. He rested his elbows on his oil stained jeans, hands clasped together with thoughtful stormy gray eyes on the sky. Marvin frowned, leaning into his side without breaking her position, other than to bury her face into his arm, "I'm sorry." She whispered.

The man smiled gently, his face all lines and creases with dark circles under his orbs. Worn out, exhausted, but kind. "It's alright, just wasn't your day. You'll get there kiddo." He consoled, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and kissing her brown hair that was pulled into a pony tail, loose bangs framing her face and tickling her cheeks.

She toed the gathering dead leaves with converse clad feet, voice critically bitter, "History project presentation days, they've never really been my social strong point."

"Everyone has an Achilles' heel. I knew a guy, who knew a guy, who couldn't fly a plane if the seat hadn't been cleaned with a lemon scented wet wipe beforehand." The old man said seriously, pointing at the girl with an unsteady jabbing motion. Marvin snorted, laughing under her breath.

"I'm serious. We would get our orders in, important orders, and he could not. I repeat! Could not, get in that plane until me or one of the other guys cleaned that seat first." He shook her playfully, "But it didn't matter because he was a _damn good_ flier. You see?"

She nodded, smiling and wiping her watery blue eyes with the sleeve of her gray hoodie, pulling it tighter against the chilly autumn air, "Thanks, grandpa."  
"Anytime, sweetheart." He murmured, kissing the top of her head again, "What do you say, we leave this dull place and go visit the old bird, hm?"

Marvin grinned at the suggestion, raising her head off her dark-jean covered knees to stand and carefully help her grandfather off the steps, "I say, hell yeah!" she giggled, stringing her arm through his.

Appreciation for the old man filled her suddenly, he had always been there to support her and say all of the right things when she needed to hear them. Never any criticism, never telling her to stop being ridiculous, never once forcing her back into that school to humiliate herself. Walter Reeves, a seventy one year old Vietnam War veteran, looked out for his granddaughter, and he was all she had left. His daughter, her mother, had died during childbirth and the man on the birth certificate was a stranger. Neither of the two had met him, and Marvin considered it to be a win. Ignorance was bliss, how could she miss a mother or a father she never knew? Walter was her family and she was the last of his. The two were close largely due to those circumstances, because of them, she would say. School was never much of an issue, until the first Thursdays of the month, where her history teacher required the students to read their projects aloud to the class. She couldn't do that. Marvin wasn't shy and she didn't lack any amount of self esteem, but she wasn't one to conform to what other people wanted out of her or expected from her. And her outlandish ideas didn't fall into acceptable territory as outlined by her classmates, teachers, school counselors, or the principle. _So what_ if she didn't believe everything the text books said? Why was being adventurous, why was stepping out of the box, so bad? Thinking or believing differently wasn't a mental disorder, she didn't need counseling or therapy or medication. She needed people to stop telling her what to believe in.

The one time Mrs. Thompson brought up Egypt's pyramid construction and lingered on how mysterious it was, Marvin couldn't stuff the obvious answer. It wasn't like she was dead wrong either; it was a theory, one that was heavily supported by many in the scientific community. Maybe not respected, but supported. The idea was broadcast on televisions now too, so it was no longer as strange or crazy as it might have been twenty years ago and Marvin wasn't a blind drinker of information. She could scoff at some things and give a nod to others. She knew how to filter the truly crazy from the truly plausible. No one listened though, and she was often asked to leave the classroom. A small concern, the lectures weren't worth much of a grade, also very boring and incorrect. Because of the aliens, the lack of them within the subject, where she knew there should be a surplus. Yes, she strongly believed that aliens had something to do with the pyramids, don't get all weird about it.

They did get weird about it though, the other kids especially. Weird towards her, largely due to their limited eggshell sized heads, with a henpecking like way of obtaining sunflower sized seeds of new information. They couldn't always retain one hundred percent of those small bits, but it wasn't their fault that the impossible use of copper tools and thousands of Humans required to move the rocks was an easier reality to accept and explain vs. aliens. A rude thing to think, she knew. But, _insane conspiracy theorist_, the students would snicker at her during lunch, making it hard to hold down. Eventually she stopped talking about it all together, dropping the entire subject of aliens completely. It didn't matter what other people thought, she didn't need them to confirm what she already believed to be fact. She would have liked to have some friends, but they avoided her as long as she refused to change, and she wasn't ever going to change. Not for them.

The truck lurched to a stop, startling Marvin out of her thoughts.  
Outside her frosted window the airfield was bustling with activity, workers and pilots each walking with a distinct purpose whether they came from the immense landing strip or the rows of hangars on the right side, the order of it all comforted her. It was familiar, and her favorite place in the world.

Walter gave her a wink, exiting the car and straightening the ball cap on his head, "Gonna' sit there all day?" he teased, and she rolled her eyes at him, hopping out to slam the Chevy's protesting door, a landing fighter jet whistled past on the strip deafening the harsh noise with it's own screaming engine.

A military worker raised his hand at them in greeting almost as soon as her shoes hit the pavement, jogging over, his breath reminding Marvin of a dragons' when it came out in cloudy puffs to meet the cool air. "Hey Walter, Marvin," he nodded at her, talking loudly over the commotion of the incoming aircrafts, "we've got a bit of a system glitch over on the East side, I'm not hearing all the details, but there's a team on their way from downtown to sort it out. I'm sorry, but there won't be any civilian planes taking off today."

She frowned, noting his camouflaged battle uniform and the M4A1 Carbine Rifle slung over his shoulder by a thick black strap, not the Air Force's normal casual firearm, which was the Beretta M9 still firmly in his hip holster. Walter's eyebrows furrowed, but his voice was normal and light, "That's alright, Staff Sergeant, our plane isn't in flying condition yet anyways," he smiled now, jesting, "still a lot of restoration work to do."

"Noah, what's going on?" Marvin interjected, soft blue eyes pointedly flickering to the rifle, arms crossed tightly in an attempt to keep her warm, "is everything okay?"

Noah stiffened, hesitantly leaning forward into their conversation, his voice lowering and making itself hard to be overheard among the activity, "I told you, it looks like a system glitch-"

"But?" she pressed.

"But the guys are talking, and we've got our Command Chief handing out M4A1's like goddamn Oprah and giving orders to get citizens off base," he looked to Walter before confiding, "with a team coming in to '_check it out_'? Doesn't feel like a routine glitch."

The veteran's lips were pressed into a thin line, "What exactly are your boys talking about?" he inquired, worry unintentionally creeping into his otherwise steady voice.

"They're saying that the same thing happened in Qatar, before whatever happened there…happened. Saying we're all screwed to shit, a few guys took off, ran scared."

Marvin looked between the two, confusion written plainly all over her face, "Why, what happened in Qatar?"  
A shrug and a shake of the head, Noah ran a frustrated hand through his cropped ginger hair, "Classified, even I don't know."

A man's scream came from further down the air strip, north of them behind Noah. Their heads snapped to its direction, listening attentively as more joined in along with the violent sounds of metal wrecking and clanging. Noah's green orbs widened, "you guys have to go, right now," he shoved at them with gloved hands before grasping his rifle and expertly sighting the scope, the two stumbling back in panicked shock.

"_GO NOW!_" he roared at them as an otherworldly mechanical warping sound shook the concrete under their feet, turning their legs to useless jelly as they ran for the shelter of the storage hangars. A row of jets to their left exploded in fire without warning, black smoke billowing from the first four cockpits where the blast landed, stinging Marvin's eyes and choking her lungs. She heard Noah's scream and the pelt of gunfire before she saw his body collapse where it stood less than a minute previously, gun clattering away from his hands and thick sticky blood coating his midsection.

She pulled her grandfather along, fingers like iron on his wrist as he struggled to move faster than his normal walk, tripping over himself and panting heavily. The earth shook again, rippling with movement and splitting open into a web of deep cracks, unbalancing and throwing them to the ground. Turning her head to see the cause, Marvin's heart slammed against her ribcage. The machine was standing in its own crater above them, an arm outstretched and launching cannon fire into the buildings and vehicles across the air base. It twisted, turning its back to the carnage and firing two more shots behind itself before looking down, right at her. Its eyes were a frighteningly brilliant red, piercing, the machine's mouth moved but all she could hear was a voice like gravel, joined by strange clicks and zipping noises that sent chills up her spine.

"GRANDPA, GET UP! _GET UP!_" she screamed, scrabbling backwards on the rubble and shrapnel trying to pull him along with her, but his head was bleeding and his eyes were unfocused, wandering around aimlessly, a hand clutching a gash that maimed his throat.

Marvin reached for his palm, unsuccessfully trying to pry his fingers away from the wound, "Oh no, no no no, _please no!_" she babbled incoherently through her sobs when she saw the thin strip of metal embedded in his neck and cutting deeper every time he breathed in. Blood poured from between his white fingers, pooling on the ground and filling the fresh cracks.

Above her the robot's wings trembled, the thrusters on its back puffing with jet fire as it aimed an arm cannon at the pair, the barrel rotating and whining as it powered up. The heat warmed her face, drawing attention to the tears she wasn't previously aware were streaming from her burning eyes. And she was sure that would be it, positive that this nightmare would be over almost as soon as it had begun. It couldn't have been more than fifteen minutes ago they had stepped out of the Chevy, an hour since leaving the school steps, a half-hour before that when she ran out of her classroom in fear of something that felt so small now, she couldn't remember what it was anymore as the cannon began to glow a bright purple. What had she been so scared of?

There wasn't enough time for her to answer the question before a glossy black GMC Topkick C-4500 rammed into the robot, sending it sailing sideways, clawing for purchase on the shredded air strip and snarling profanity at the vehicle. Marvin's stomach emptied itself at understanding its words, it was too much, the thing from hell was _speaking English_, its grating voice not much prettier than before, "Fragging Autobot," it spat evilly, "still cleaning up messes for these meatbags? Tell me, where has your Prime gone?"

The truck fell apart, pieces breaking and reassembling, constructing a second robot much to her horror. It was massive, with armed weapons clicking into place all along its broad shoulders. Two missiles flew from its chest and struck the other robot in the gut, sending it back two more steps before it braced against the impact, thrusters scorching the ground and scarring it a coal black.

"Off planet Skywarp, you won't find him here," the Topkick aimed an arm cannon that put the other's to shame, it clicked into place, whirring with a chain of oversized bullets clapping against the barrel, "but I'm more than willing to personally escort you to ask the Thirteen yourself, whenever you're ready."

"You've always been too confident, Ironhide."

Marvin wanted to speak, wanted to yell at the small silver humanoid creeping up behind the one called Skywarp, she wanted to warn _someone_ because she felt like she should be doing something besides clutching her grandfather's blood soaked jacket in shocked fear. The silver robot leapt on Skywarp, digits hanging onto his wings before shoving a gun of some sort in between the plates on his back and firing, blowing chunks of metal and steaming violet liquid into the air, "And you've never learned to shut up and watch your aft, Decepticon glitch."

Rough hands suddenly grabbed her by the shoulders, tearing her away from Walter, their grip only strengthening the more she cried out and fought them. An arm wrapped around her waist, and she threw back her elbow, forcefully making contact with something solid.

"Hey hey hey, we need to get you out of here," her abductor spun her around to face him, blood oozing out his nostrils though it didn't look like he minded or even noticed at all, "these guys, they're going to keep fighting, and you are right under foot." his voice was logical and stern, experienced like he dealt with crazy psycho robots everyday of the week. His black special ops gear told her that he was a soldier, maybe part of the team Noah said was coming, but she didn't recognize the insignia embroidered on his shoulder patch; or the abbreviation, for that matter.

Her voice cracked and scraped against her throat like sandpaper, "I-I can't leave, he's hurt! You have to take him too!" she ceased struggling, allowing him to half drag and half carry her to the nearest intact hangar, trusting him.

He didn't look at her, icy blue eyes sweeping the area after stuffing her behind the sheet metal structure, "I promise my team will come back for him. But you need to stay here first alright, because I can't do anything with you out there." he cast over his shoulder, looking through a large blocky set of what appeared to be binoculars, aiming a green laser at the aggressor.

They were the team then, which was good; they definitely needed a team for this sort of thing. She attempted to turn carefully, trying to make out the tear blurred figures kneeling and firing at the first robot to attack from behind the cover of blown apart jets and overturned slabs of concrete. A few men only pointed at the thing with the same green laser boxes, sighting and targeting it for an air strike, while the Topkick and the silver robot fought the enemy up close and personal. It was hard to follow and there was too much going on, too many noises and too much motion. Marvin felt her head spin as the strike came in, and two of the machines fell back, raining fire upon the Skywarp one. Its thrusters burst to life, launching it into the air to change into a jet; much like the truck had turned into a…whatever it was. A sonic boom put the nearest men on the ground, the thing soaring off too fast to follow.

The man dropped the device he held to stand and run out towards the pair of remaining machines, breathing hard, "What did he get?" he asked the biggest one, the one with the guns. It turned to face him, cannon retreating inside its arm, "He didn't get anything," a sneer there, "not without Frenzy."

"The 'Cons are still looking for Prime." The silver one said harshly, stabbing a finger at the group of black clad soldiers, "they don't believe us, no surprise there, and they're going to keep searching."

Marvin leaned back against the paneling of the hangar, eyes squeezed shut. This couldn't be happening; this was insane, what the hell was a Prime? What giant talking robot car monster even cared about con artists? 'Autobot' sounded like a cheap television show, and maybe that was it, maybe she was being punked for ditching her history class.

The crunch of boots jogging towards her hurt her head, skull pounding; beating like her heart had crawled up in there during the panic, she recognized the hands that pulled her to her feet and led her away though. They were the same ones that had taken her away from Walter.

Her eyes flew open then, "Wait! _Wait!_ Where is my grandpa? You said you would get him too, where is he? Did yo-", the sound of an engine roaring interrupted her, nearly bursting her eardrums. The C-17 responsible streamed by, landing jarred by the damaged air strip and shaking the earth more than that red-eyed robot ever had.

The brown haired man took the opportunity to yell at her over the noise, but he sounded distracted, like she wasn't important, "On his way to a hospital, miss." A ramp came down from the now still transport plane, the soldiers rushing inside and shouting orders, her guide was bringing her towards it, she realized.

The bigger robot was standing outside of the hatch, arguing with one of the team members and growing increasingly agitated. When they walked by, the man holding her elbow told the other guy off, voice sharper than the edge of blade, "If you have a problem with the way we do things here, you can ship out." He hissed under his breath in an effort to be discreet, but Marvin caught it anyways, leaning away from the robot desperately. She didn't understand why it was there, why they weren't shooting at it. Or, why it looked like it was frowning at her.

Shrugging at the machine and ignoring her disturbed behavior, the man then walked her up the ramp, found her a seat along the wall, sat her down in it, and knelt to speak. Finally appearing more focused. She tried to pay attention to him, but her eyes flickered in panic to the GMC Topkick driving into the plane, the small silver robot walking in after it. "My name is William Lennox, okay? I'm with N.E.S.T., says here on my shirt, I'm one of the good guys." He spoke slowly, carefully. As if he wanted her to repeat after him.

She shook her head instead, "_No._ No, I've never heard of that division before, that name isn't _real_. What's going on?"

"I can't tell you that right now, I'm sorry." Lennox said sincerely, "what's your name?"

"Marvin Reeves." She whispered, gaze faltering behind him again on accident, on the truck and robot in the background. He turned, following her line of sight before giving a smile, "you're safe, those two are on our side. How old are you Marvin?"

"Seventeen."

"Do you have any family or friends, relatives?"

Why was he asking? That question didn't make since in this situation, it was irrelevant, but her voice threw the answer anyway, "My grandpa, Walter Reeves." He ran a hand over his face then, stopping and holding it over his mouth for a moment, exhaling, "wa- is he, your only contact?"

She nodded, "he's going to be alright…right?"

Lennox looked up at her, "I'm not a doctor, but our people are really good, I think he'll be fine." He cleared his throat, standing to leave, "I have to check on some things before we take off, I'll be back. Sit tight and don't go anywhere."

* * *

"Epps," Lennox coughed, approaching his friend and Jazz, jerking his head towards the girl sitting in the wall chair behind him, "how many people have our guys pulled out so far, and from what part of the base?"

"Last update was twenty six, from the west side; it was on the fringes of _Asswarp's_ destruction zone." He fist bumped the Autobot's servo then before sobering, "from here? Nobody, other than her."

Jazz made a strange static sound, shifting his weight and holding them with his optics, "we didn't get here in time. The 'Cons have always had the advantage of superior air power, but there shouldn't have been this much damage," his gaze lingered on the girl for a moment, "or casualties."

Lennox knew he was right; they were slipping ever since the war ended. Less organized, less efficient, less coordinated, and the Decepticons grew unpredictable without guidance. They often acted alone, or in small groups, looking for sources of dark energon and more recently, the location of Optimus Prime. Even N.E.S.T. didn't know the answer to that question, Ironhide and Jazz may be working with them still, but they hid that piece of information from the Humans. He had asked 'hide once, off the record, and the weapons specialist had grown closed off and distant. Lennox never mentioned it again, he trusted the Autobots. He trusted his friends, his brothers, and if they were hiding Prime he knew it was for a good reason and not some passing threat. He owed them that much.

He shook his head, "regardless, we have damage control to do. That girl sitting over there in shock, eyeballing Jazz like he's about to go postal any minute, is now officially under the care of the government." Epps stared at him, "and which government is that? This organization we're so proudly a part of is a _global_ effort, how does this work?"

Ironhide's voice grunted at them in warning from his strapped down alt-mode, too big to transform in the plane, "Mearing, on your-"

"I can announce my own arrival, thank you." A blonde ponytail-haired woman with thick black rimmed glasses barked, walking up to meet them with brisk powerful strides, stopping to swivel her focus between them, "Jesus, what happened to your nose, and how what works exactly?"

Lennox rolled his eyes at Epps discreetly, "actually, I'm glad you're here ma'am, hopefully you can give us an answer." He wiped the crusted blood off his upper lip, grimacing.

"I'm not a ma'am, Lieutenant Colonel."

"Right," he said dryly, "we only recovered one survivor from this part of the base, where the Decepticon 'Skywarp' focused his attacks. Problem is she's a minor, and her legal guardian was killed during the assault." Charlotte blinked at him, "I can't help you until I know how much she saw, and how much she heard." She waved her assistant over, speaking low and fast, "get this plane in the air and find me an interrogator on the other side."

"Director Mearing," Lennox interrupted with blunt displeasure, "you can't be serious, she's just a kid. She doesn't even know what's going on."

"Believe me, I am deadly serious. This is a little something we upstairs like to call a," she clawed quotation marks in the air with her fingers, one hand still clutching a vibrating phone, "national security risk."

"Global," Epps corrected, shrugging under Jazz's unconvinced stare, "and where's the 'other side' this tin can is headed to? You didn't land a C17 for a local joy ride."

"Kirtland Air Force Base," the Director of National Intelligence said, turning to leave, "pack your bags boys, you're going to the Land of Enchantment."

* * *

**Author's note:** Hey guys, putting my playlist picks at the title creds just so you can check out the song I'm listening to/using for inspiration while writing the chapters. They're all very fitting, I think. Additionally, I'm used to typing in a book format, thin spaced lines kill me, so I'll try to work on that but honestly? Expect the book format. It's all I'm capable of atm ;o;


	4. Chapter Three

**VARIETY FAMILIAR, CHAPTER THREE.**  
3:30 PM on October 3rd.  
Temporary Autobot Headquarters in Bluff, Utah.

People, people, have you heard the good news?  
There's people, people, they're running just like you.  
–People, AWOLNATION.

* * *

Whirl's engine sputtered and his helm throbbed from where he was thrown against the red rock of the cavern's wall, "You don't happen to hit light, do you?" he groaned, rocks crumbling down his back rotors as he pushed himself up to stand on his pedes. He could feel the lack of energon in his system, slowing him down and choking his processor. Whirl wasn't one to back down from a fight, Primus, he was always gunning for something to go off on, but he knew now was a worse time than any other. He'd offline if he pushed a brawl with his attacker, so it would have to wait. And he was very good at waiting.

Sideswipe growled at the ex-Wrecker, rolling a shoulder joint casually while clenching and unclenching the servo that sent the other Mech flying into the wall. No one had intervened, but Arcee looked unhappy, pink browplates pulled together and arms crossed tightly, forcing herself not to get involved. Smokescreen leaned against the other side of the basement wall, blue optics flickering between the two uneasily. Optimus Prime stood to the side of the tunnel the foursome had driven through, flown through in Whirl's case, his expression visibly hollow and disappointed. Sideswipe thought for an astrosecond that maybe it wasn't because of the psychotic helicopter in their midst, but maybe Optimus had been hoping for someone like he had hoped for Sunstreaker. Maybe, he wished they would have found Ratchet inside that pod instead. Sideswipe suddenly felt selfish, guilty. He stepped away from Whirl and powered down his weapons systems, blowing air over his vents to cool off. He hated this. He hated that Sunstreaker left, he hated feeling angry, he hated the way the other Autobots pitied him, he hated Whirl and his fragging mouth, and he found himself missing the war. Things were simple then, straightforward and pure. Fight Decepticons, keep everyone else safe. There weren't any variables, any backlash or consequences, he had assumed. Now he wished that he could go back in time, reevaluate a few things, and do stuff differently. Maybe _now_ could have been different, maybe they would all be back on Cybertron celebrating if only some key decisions had been handled more delicately.

Bumblebee's harsh pull on his shoulder frame derailed his pity party, yanking him with blatant aggression, causing him to stumble into the glowing blue ion cannon of the scout's right arm. Bee's face shield was drawn over his optics with his radio blaring and bouncing around the small space, "_Not today, tiger._" The old time voice crackled.

"Enough." Optimus spoke calmly, "fighting among ourselves is _unacceptable_."

The scout released Sideswipe, with a warning shove the other warrior didn't miss. Arcee and Smokescreen were silent, but had moved closer together before nodding and leaving the basement floor entirely through the door on the far end. They must have been speaking with Prime over a private com line, the Lamborghini mused.

Whirl watched Sideswipe with his one yellow optic, thrilled that his face was incapable of being even remotely readable, because he was seething. First action? Energon. Second action? Kick the stupid Mech's aft and dismember him for parts. He was aware of Bumblebee's online ion weapon, whirring and clicking in adjustments, still at the ready expecting to break up a fight. A wise precaution and Prime didn't tell him to put it away. But Whirl knew better than most of the bots in this base how ruthless _Orion Pax_ could be; if they thought that they were following an innocent peacekeeper without ulterior motives, they were terribly misinformed.

Optimus Prime walked forward, pistons hissing with the movement and dim overhead lights making his armor shine strangely, his audio-receptors adjusting slowly. "Whirl is one of us," he ignored the way Sideswipe tried to interject with a snarl, continuing his speech, "regardless of past complications, I would assume personal disagreements aside, we can work together as Autobots united under one cause."

Sideswipe snorted, jabbing a finger at his leader critically, "He doesn't even know what a _Human_ is, and if you think he's the type to protect anyone you're in for a shock."

"I have a holoform, but the other part is true." Whirl said ruefully, sarcasm lacing his every word, "I did a poor job covering your ungrateful aft from that mob of NAILs back on Cybe-"

"You're such a glitch."

"Well, that's a lie. I make friends _everywhere_ I go."

Bumblebee fought the urge to pound their helms together, being second in command to Prime was exhausting sometimes, he had always wanted a position of leadership, but not like this. Not because everyone else qualified was _gone_. Watching these two bicker like sparklings only made him more tired, more annoyed. He wanted to drop them, drag them off to one of Ratch's old magnetized med bay tables and leave them there. Forever, or at least for a vorn.*

He pinged Prime a request to open a private line, that was immediately granted, **::** _What are your orders?_ **::** he flashed a data-burst file of his magnetized table idea, a sense of amusement filling the line when Optimus responded, **::** _Not that, although it does sound appealing._ **::**

Despite his tense history with Whirl, Optimus valued his allegiance, he always had. Their past wasn't relevant anymore, things changed. Of course, he knew the ex-Wrecker would disagree. His grudge against the Autobot leader was solidly bitter, embarrassed too, but no one would so much as hint at that within hearing range of his audio-receptors. Not unless they wanted to be beaten to scrap. Sensitivity was required around Whirl, he was too…Optimus didn't want to say insane, for anything else. But he was violent and unpredictable, unstable. He didn't have any moral code against beating other bots or disfiguring Sweep carcasses, and where that stopped he didn't know. To put it bluntly, Whirl was unnerving. And not the in the same way Sideswipe could be, that was grief, that was being snappy and verbal. Whirl put his words into action. Allowing him to stay on base, putting him on the team, wasn't a risk. It wasn't a what if, it was a when and where. But Optimus didn't have another choice; he had to give him a chance. He had to fix things. Even though the faults in their timeline were Whirl's own, he knew it was up to him to fix it. That was why he was made a Prime all those years ago, to fix things. What good was he anymore if he couldn't save one Autobot from himself? He couldn't fix Megatron, he couldn't fix Cybertron or the NAILs, but he was _trying_ to fix the Earth. What was one more charity? What was Whirl compared to all of that?

The two weren't arguing when he cut the com with Bumblebee and spoke directly to Whirl, but they were watching each other with obvious annoyance. "Jolt can replenish your energon supply," he inclined his helm towards Sideswipe; "you can escort him there, and stay until he's one hundred percent functional."

Neither of them protested, though the tension followed them out of the cavern like a static cloud when the red Mech led the gray-blue away, through the door and towards the cargo elevator to get to the med bay on the next floor up. Slamming the metal grill shut and throwing a lever down, Sideswipe sighed to blow more air over his vents when the thing squealed in protest, slowly hauling them upwards. He found himself doing that a lot lately, he grimaced. Whirl was behind him, watching the cut stone pass and sticking out a pincer to trace it as they moved. Sideswipe didn't look at him, focused on keeping his vocals steady, "How is Su-"

"Terrible," Whirl interrupted, dropping his arm to throw both of them over his helm in exaggerated frustration, "still more of a slagger than you are."

Relief filled him at the other's sarcasm, so his brother was fine, visibly normal. It should hurt, he should feel angry that Sunny wasn't suffering as obviously as he was, but he couldn't find the emotion. It wasn't there. The helicopter kept going, "You're not mad at me. You just wanted it to be him, I get it. I'm not exactly anyone's first choice." He leaned forward, pincer prodding into Sideswipe's back threateningly, "but don't screw with me again."

Before he could react, the elevator jumped to a stop, the grill sliding up to reveal Jolt waiting for them. Whirl stalked out in front of the stunned bot, greeting the Medic's apprentice far too innocently, no indication of his threat mere moments before. Sideswipe felt like a bomb was stuck in his throat cables, burning, as he tore his pedes from their spot in the elevator and rolled into the med bay. He supposed he had that coming, the only reason they didn't fight back in the basement was because Whirl was low on energon. Everyone knew that if the aft had been running on a full tank, he would have brought the ceiling down on their helms. He may be crazy, but he was right, and Sideswipe was going to take the second chance to make real efforts towards _not_ being a temperamental glitch.

Jolt had made Whirl sit down on a berth, his clawed servos skillfully attaching a large clear tube into a port between his back plates that quickly flooded with a thick shimmering blue substance. It had a dim glow to it, and the helicopter's rotors clicked with pleasure as it began circling through his frame. His engine purred to life, pushing it through his systems and spreading the liquid warmth to his very spark chamber.

The ex-Decepticon was hovering, Sideswipe noticed, pretending to tinker with a scanner before setting it down and staring off into space. Red optics unfocused, listening to Whirl's humming, an old Cybertronian tune it sounded like. He finally spoke, hesitantly, fingers ghosting over the edges of his table piled high with unidentifiable clutter, "What has Ratchet been up to? Do you know?"

Whirl was more sincere with his answer this time, helm tilted thoughtfully, "Great, he uh, he's saved a few lives on board, and off. More than a few, a lot, actually. Mine once." He admitted, "The Hatchet is doing good, looks good too. Got some new servos, the lucky fragger."

The med bay grew silent then; Jolt nodded and smiled sadly, the kind of smile someone gave when they were in pain to reassure someone else that they were alright. He went back to his work, real work, calibrating the ground bridge through his servo-held screen and checking the power levels. The atmosphere in the room changed and Sideswipe and Whirl exchanged a glance, it felt like the grief and sympathy was an actual tangible item in the room, like you could cut it with Prime's sword.

"So, what happened?" Sideswipe asked quietly, in an attempt to break the fresh layer of ice that had frozen over the three, "Last we hear, you're on the _Lost Light_, then next thing we know- boom, you fall out of the sky. There has to be a story in there somewhere."

"It's a long one, but hey, remember Cyclonus?"

"Yeah."

"He was going to kill me. Let it slide after a couple team ups. Still forced me into an escape pod and ejected me off ship though, because technically," Whirl shrugged, "that doesn't count as killing."

Jolt gaped at him, not that it was hard to imagine anybody wanting to permanently offline Whirl, but Primus, "Why the death threat?"

"It was mutual, pretty sure I started it when I attacked him on Cybertron, before the _'Light_ launched. Let's leave the details for another day." He pointed at the Medic's apprentice, "If Pax tells anyone what happened so help me I'll…I'll probably just _roll with it_, there isn't much I could do to Pax."

"Optimus Prime now, hasn't been called Orion Pax in a very long time." Jolt reminded him briskly before his words trailed off into a nostalgic tone, "Who here even _remembers_ that far back?"

"I do," Sideswipe said, "hard to forget, we were front liners with him after he became a Prime. Jazz, Ironhide, Bee, Prowl…I thought times were tough _then_. Look at us now, wars over, slag all else to go back to." He waved a servo absent mindedly, "Jazz and 'Hide are out having slumber parties with N.E.S.T., Prowl's who knows where, and Bee is second in command down here. Primus, he's younger than me. Did you guys know that?"

Jolt nodded his helm, Whirl shook his and replied, "I think I was still a Wrecker at that stage in the war, you're talking about the _very beginning_. Old news."

"Not all of us were serious _career changers_. If you know what I mean." Jolt drawled out, taking a long swig from an energon cube before handing one to Sideswipe, the two had sat on the berth across from Whirl, elbows resting on their armored knees.

Whirl bristled at the slight, engine growling lowly, "That's a low ball for an ex-Decepticon to throw, don't you think?"

"Ah fine, it _was_ a cheap shot, but in my defense on that subject," he said seriously, looking between the two, "I wasn't with the 'Cons long enough to _do anything_. I didn't even change my name. I've always been _Jolt._"

"Huh," Sideswipe snickered humorously, "so all that time Smokescreen spent trying to figure out whether you were a _Scattershot_ or a _Blastwave_ was a complete waste! He's going to love this; I have to send him a com later."

"I had him pegged for something more related, you know like _Shockwave_." Whirl mumbled, studying Jolt tap his fingers on his half-empty energon cube in mild annoyance, "Definitely _Shockwave_."

He stood, unplugging the drained tube from Whirl's back and tossing it behind the Mech sloppily, "I hate you both, and get out of the med bay, Whirl should be able walk straight now if I can resist the urge to punch him in the optic."

"You weren't kidding," Sideswipe muttered as the newly energon-replenished bot rose to his pedes, "you really do make friends everywhere you go."

"I'm a real people pleaser." The ex-Wrecker jeered, "Show me the way outside, I want to go for a spin. It feels like prison in here."

"About that, you need a different alt-mode. Cybertronian vehicles aren't low profile, neither are fliers, not around here. Make peace with the dirt, because you're going to _get acquainted_ with it one way or another."

Whirl stared at him, "I can be a double changer, _wheels_, and if you think I'm losing the air power _go frag yourself_."

"Why," Sideswipe cringed inwardly, "am I not surprised?"

* * *

12:25 PM on October 4th.  
Kirtland Air Force Base in Albuquerque, New Mexico.

The room was nice and clean, comfortable outside of being stiff; it was a lot like a hotel room. You knew it wasn't yours, that it wasn't really anybodies. But you were also aware that someone came in from time to time to make sure that it still smelt like flowers and the carpet was vacuumed. Marvin had lifted the blankets on the single twin sized bed that was pushed up against the wall to look underneath, however it was trimmed with board all the way around. There weren't any windows either, but there were air vents, and the television worked. She had a nature documentary playing on it now, the narrator's voice droning in the background made her feel less alone. She had never seen anyone die before, and while Noah was more of Walter's friend than hers, images of his body being ripped into by oversized bullets wouldn't stop flashing into her head. She felt bad, for feeling more disturbed over _watching_ the airman die rather than him actually dying. And mostly, she really didn't want to be alone.

When the plane landed yesterday, Lennox led her straight to this room and locked her in, apologizing the whole time and promising he would come back to talk to her. It had been awhile since then though, and Marvin was starting to think he had forgotten about her. She took a shower, cried, and changed into the fresh clothes that were inside the dresser, under the television. The shock was long gone, she wanted an explanation and she wanted an update on her grandfather. Was he at a hospital here in New Mexico? Or did they take him to one back in Washington? Why did they bring her here? The robots had come off the plane with them, she remembered, they parted ways immediately after exiting. To the hangar, the soldier called Epps had told Lennox before they clasped each other's arms in a brief, temporary, farewell.

Fear wasn't what made her want to stay away from the machines, no one else she saw was afraid of them, so these two were different from Skywarp, the one that had attacked in DC. A healthy respect was what made her feel relieved when they left, when she couldn't _see_ them anymore. They may have helped, but they could be dangerous too, if the big black one stepped on her it might not even notice. She suppressed a shudder, raising her hands to look at the torn palms. They would scar, that much was obviously unavoidable.

A knock at the door made her jump from her seat on the bed, re-wrapping the gauze on her injuries, "Y-yeah?" she called, straightening her red zip-up hoodie, trying to avoid picking at the bold white lettering on the left sleeve, her attention too scattered to read what it said, "You can come in."

The smartly dressed woman who opened the door wasn't anyone she knew, or recognized from the plane. She looked young, probably in her early thirties, with curly black hair and pretty brown eyes. A black pencil skirt, a white button up blouse, and a black jacket made her look like she should be in a courtroom but her smile was gentle, genuine, which mattered more. "Marvin, right?" her voice was soft too, and Marvin nodded, "I'm Lisa Obien, I'm here to take you to speak with Mearing about…what happened in Washington."

"Where's Lennox?" she asked, uncertainty leaking into the question. Lennox had promised he would talk to her, she didn't know a Mearing, and she wanted to talk with the man in the special ops gear, the one that saw everything she did.

Lisa looked surprised to hear his name, her eyebrows raising curiously, "Colonel Lennox is otherwise preoccupied, but I can make sure he knows you asked for him."

Marvin felt silly; of course he would be busy with more important things, especially after the killer robot incident. She was selfish for thinking he forgot about her, she wasn't the only person in the world affected by yesterday's events, "Please, do that? If it isn't a big deal you know?"

"It's fine." Lisa assured, holding open the door as Marvin walked out, turning on her heels and leading the teenager down a narrow hallway, "Follow me."

The small space reminded her of a college dorm, with cork boards and notices' hanging on the paisley papered walls between more doors like the one her room was behind. There were people everywhere, moving out of their way carrying duffle bags over their shoulders or boxes in their hands. She didn't expect the company, her room was so quiet, and she thought she should have heard them over her TV. Going down a large staircase the floor below wasn't revealed to be any different, but now she noticed that almost everyone was wearing some form of military branded clothing and over half were young men. "Is this a Military Institute? Like an academy?" Marvin blurted, jogging to catch up.

"Yes it is, come along _quickly_."

"Do they know about the robo-"

The warning glare Lisa shot her way startled her, she didn't expect that kind of answer from the kind woman, and felt more than a little betrayed. Lisa didn't talk the rest of the way to wherever they were going after that, and Marvin didn't ask any more questions. Apparently, they were in a hurry. The scenery and temperature around them changed as they went outside, where a truck was waiting with its engine idling.

Marvin felt like her brain had frozen from the cold when she recognized it, stopping in her tracks, too scared to proceed but equally scared to refuse. Lisa didn't go near it, instead crossing her arms over her clipboard and holding it against her chest, "It's alright, you're only being driven back to the airstrip."

She still couldn't move, or take her eyes off the glossy paint, "Why? What for? Do I have to go in _that_?"

"Oh, oh I'm sorry. I didn't think, it completely slipped my mind I'm terribly sorry," and she sounded like she meant it, delicate eyebrows coming together in concern, "but yes I'm afraid so, the truck _is_ safe…just go on. You going to speak with Mearing, remember? You're not going anywhere. I'll be here when you get back."

Marvin forced her body to move by sheer willpower, legs numb and hands clammy. The Topkick's passenger door popped open before she could open it herself and she flinched in fear before feeling embarrassed. It might not even be the robot, it could be another big truck, and it wasn't like they were rare. Using the step-rail proved to be of little help when trying to get in, but she felt someone grab her hand and pull her up at the same moment she felt the rail _move_ under her. "Thanks." She panted, closing the truck's door before it could freak her out and do it by itself.

"No problem," the man in the driver's seat was smirking with mild amusement, at what she wasn't sure, but it was then that she knew she had seen him before on the plane talking with Lennox. The truck rolled forward and turned onto the road, she tried to distract herself from the fact that he didn't have a foot on the gas pedal.

"You're Epps right?"

His smirk turned into a confirming nod, "Yes ma'am, Master Sergeant."

She didn't say anything back, staring at the dashboard buttons and radio instead; they looked normal and she shivered against the seat, rubbing her bandaged hands together ineffectively. The heater immediately powered on and the vents turned, blasting warm air towards her. Marvin's eyes widened, Epps didn't do that, and he cut in before she could ask, "I think you're making him feel _guilty_."

The truck's engine revved and their speed increased, a voice filled the interior, coming from all around them, "Or, I'm being considerate."

Curiosity trumped all else, "_What are you?_"

The seat beneath her rumbled with the voice, the sound resonating from the entire vehicle, "My designation is Ironhide, and I'm an Autobot from the planet Cybertron." The frame of the truck shook, "Primus, I've never been good at introductions."

Epps snickered, patting the dashboard, "Nah. You did fine."

"I was right."

"About what?"

"I was right, about, well not everything but, a lot of things." She rambled, leaning forward, as if Ironhide could hear her better when she was closer to the radio, "This whole time and I was right." The Autobot didn't speak, waiting.

"Does Lennox know about this too? He acted like he knew, he wasn't…weird, I mean, he didn't look shocked when one of you blew stuff up."

He growled lowly, "Skywarp isn't _one of us_."

"I-I'm sorry, I didn't know." She whispered, voice cracking as she leaned back against her seat, "Is that why you were fighting it?"

"Him, we're a sentient species. And yes, the bot that attacked your base was a Decepticon, my teammate Jazz and I attempted to permanently offline him." Epps gave a tired look to absolutely no one, and Ironhide made a coughing noise, "Kill him, sorry."

"Just like that? You Autobots don't have…trials, or anything? Jail?"

"He's a war criminal and we're off planet. The same rules don't apply like they used to."

"Wait I don't understand, what war? Why did he attack us?"

"Maybe that's something you can ask Mearing," Epps suggested, "since we're here."

* * *

Lennox dabbed at the worn leather with a damp sponge, gently trying to lift the stain without further damaging the material. It was coming along nicely so far, except on the soft off-white sheep's wool collar, that part was stubborn, still a tinge of pink if you looked at it under the right lighting. He wondered if bleach would work, or if it would ruin it. Sarah would know. She knew more about this sort of thing than he did, and he missed her. His daughter too, Annabelle, she was four years old now. He wished he had been able to say a proper goodbye before leaving, but the Decepticons never were good at sending advanced invitations to their exclusive parties. Bad humor, that's how he knew he stepped in it deep.

"Hey," a clap on his shoulder and the thud of pedes on the hangar's concrete floor knocked him out his domestic activity, "she's talking with them now. We did what you said; still think you're kind of an asshole."

Ironhide grumbled at a couple of soldiers passing by, nearly running into him, "Watch yourselves, rookies."

"It was the right call," Lennox said, dropping the sponge back into the bucket of warm water and peroxide at his feet, water splashing onto the floor and darkening the shade of gray, "you heard what Mearing was going to do, I have a daughter Epps, I couldn't let her ship the kid off to a-a foster home. After all she saw? _Lost?_ It would be cruel."

"Yeah, yeah, I get it. Still ruined her life forever though, you think N.E.S.T. is going to let her go anytime soon after the shit she's going to spill in there?" his friend shook his head, rubbing at the nape of his neck in frustration, "You sympathize, that's fine, _but planting mines?_"

"I don't know how Human, _courtesy_, is arranged in situations like the one our new friend has found herself in, but I think he did her a favor." Ironhide commented easily, "Skywarp is immature, I don't think he would have let her survival slide for too long before trying to rectify his mistake."

Lennox's gaze shot to the weapons specialist, "You think he'll eventually go after her? Why didn't you _say anything_ earlier?"

"I suspect, and eventually means probably far from now. The 'Con has other things on his processor," blue optics avoided him then, shuttering away uneasily, "like finding Optimus."

Anger filled the Colonel at the Autobot's behavior, how could he do that? How could any of them, Jazz and the others, Ironhide especially, shut him out? After everything they had been through together, during the war and after. The brothers they buried while standing beside each other. What happened to that? Where did the trust go? When did it start fading, and how strong did it ever hold? Didn't they understand the entire point of forming N.E.S.T. was so that they could take the weight off their collective shoulders, so they didn't have to carry it all on their own? N.E.S.T. could help, he, Lennox, could help.

"Aha, _right_." He rubbed the stubble on his chin, biting his tongue until it hurt, "I'm sure you and your team have that handled though."

Ironhide frowned at him, visibly bothered by the tension, "Willia-"

"You don't have to explain anything to me, _I trust you_. I'm just not so sure if the feeling is mutual anymore."

Epps was quiet, downcast, and Lennox knew he agreed on some level, at least to the point of not arguing. "Well, where do they have her right now?" Lennox inquired, clearing his throat and standing from the bench, tossing his jacket cleaning project to the side. Ironhide gave him a pained look, frustrated, before his chassis turned to leave the two alone.

"Uh, the second interrogation room past the interior door." Epps mumbled, watching 'Hide as he joined Jazz on the other side of the hangar. The latter tensing and looking their way, in reaction to whatever the black Mech had told him, he would guess.

"Damn government games, I told Mearing not to do that!" Lennox hissed in annoyance, jogging off to intercept the line of questioning, and possible harassment, he knew would be going on.

The interrogation room's door opened directly into the observation section, from this side the two-way mirror was transparent, and Marvin's confused and desperate voice crackled through the speakers. Standing in the center of the mirror, arms crossed, was Charlotte Mearing. Her lips were pursed, a finger laying on them intelligently. Two soldiers sat on stools in the darkened space, typing notes into computers and starting what looked to be a very serious file on one very puzzled kid.

"No no no, that isn't what he said, _he promised._" She pleaded, leaning over the table in the center of the room, trying to reason with her questioner. Static filled the room as the suited man sitting opposite of her barked harshly, frightening her back in her chair, "I asked you WHO promised you? They lied, so you need to believe me missy."

Tear pooled in her sky eyes, "Lennox, he said they took him to a hospital, he was supposed to be okay!" she cried, searching the suit's face for any indication that there may have been a mistake.

Lennox swallowed, "Mearing," he tried to reason, "let me talk to her, she's not a criminal, you're making this worse than it needs to be."

"You should have presented that option before she started asking about several extremely classified, above classified, things that half the crews out there swabbing up dust bunnies aren't cleared for." She glared at him from behind her glasses, "Even dropped a name we're a little, _sensitive_, to right now."

"…You don't mean, Optimus?"

"Might as well have been, she used the term 'Prime', must have overheard it during the knockdown drag out your team could barely keep contained back in DC. Nice job there by the way, I never got the chance to compliment you on that fantastic failure."

"Thanks," he managed to state dryly, "why the sudden flame?"

"Sudden flame? Interesting choice of words, seeing how you and your refugees aren't feeling the heat quite like I am. Your actions, Colonel, have half the pentagon breathing down my neck demanding answers that I can't give without blowing this whole operation out of the water. You're lucky we learned our lesson with Sentinel and Chicago, which is the only safety net below your tightrope walking performance. And believe me, it's a tightrope."

The door from the interrogation room opened, and the suit stepped inside with an expression like stone and eyes like coal, "She knows a lot of words, a few names, but has clear imagery. The kid's a problem, ma'am."

"I am not a ma'am."

He gave a curt nod, striding over to the two soldiers and muttering to them about what to add to the file. Lennox resisted the urge to roll his eyes, addressing Mearing instead, "How many people do you think saw what went down in Chicago? You can't possibly hide this, _them_, for much longer."

"The citizens, and a handful of tourists, don't know what they saw. They saw rubble, explosions, strange ships, and that was it. The news broadcasts? You think we don't have the power to pull and destroy tapes? These people are sheep, we roll a headline calling it a terrorist attack and it doesn't matter how many office workers claimed to have seen half a planet in our atmosphere or two giant robots punching their guts out in the street- it was a terrorist attack and anything more is a conspiracy."

"With all do respect, you can't do that to thousands of people."

"Oh, we already have. This isn't the first crap storm the big boys in Washington have swept under the collective rug; you'd be surprised at what we can make the world forget. Don't underestimate the line that we so carefully, delicately, toe."

Lennox whistled lowly, running a hand through his hair and looking at the girl in the room. Her head was down, resting on top of her folded arms lying on the table. She kept wiping her eyes on the red sleeve of her hoodie, avoiding the view of her own reflection, which they were behind, hiding like politicians. And he was not a politician, he was a soldier. That didn't stop because the Director out douche bagged herself, actions was all he had going for him and so far they weren't working against rules and paperwork. America, land of the red pen and top secret manila envelope.

"Let me talk to her."

"Go ahead. She isn't leaving N.E.S.T. in a hurry and I have a meeting to be at in five, enjoy your new tag along." Charlotte snapped impatiently, gathering her papers into a bag and heading out the door with her walking suit man.

Success there, although it didn't feel as victorious as he thought it would. He was doing someone a favor, so it should have felt right, justified. But it felt depressing, and he couldn't ignore how ironic that was when lined up with everything else. Nothing went according to plan anymore, nothing felt the way it should or the way you wanted it to. He sighed as he walked into the room, pulling out the second chair and plopping into it gracelessly.

Marvin looked up at him, "Is what he said true?"

He nodded, and she crumbled. Her shoulders trembled with soft sobs, and tears flowed down her flushed cheeks, "Why would you lie about that?" she choked, "I don't h-have anyone else, my grandpa was all I had and y-you," she couldn't finish, "He died there? Before I was even on the plane?"

"I'm sorry. Your life was the priority, and I had an obligation to get you out of there. Walter Reeves, he, he was dead when I pulled you away."

"I was right, you know?"

"About what?"

A humorless laugh, "I believed in aliens, and they said I needed therapy or medication. All the kids at school ignored me, when they weren't making fun of me." She spun one of the white strings on her hoodie between her fingers, "It's my fault we were even at the base to begin with, because _I got scared_, of-of a school presentation. Can you believe that?"

Lennox licked his chapped lips and rubbed at his eyes with tired fingers, voice strained, "You can't blame yourself for the attack in DC, Marvin. These Decepticons are bad news, they don't care about Humans. I've been fighting them a long time with the Autobots. None of this was your fault."

She just watched him, skin pale and eyes dull. He felt self conscious, when he knew he shouldn't. He had saved her life and sure he lied, but only because he had no choice. If she panicked back there, if she shut down or froze up, things could have gone south for both of them. He did what was tactically smart, though it held the side effect of being unkind. Why couldn't anything be easy for once?

"What happens to me now?"

"You can't leave, not with everything you know. You're my 'tag along' for now, in Mearing's own words."

"I didn't talk to a Mearing. I don't know who that is."

He laughed through his nose, "When Charlotte Mearing the Director of National Intelligence wants to talk to you, what she means is that she wants you to talk to someone else while she watches." A finger pointed at the mirror behind them, he gave her a grim smile.

"I don't want to go back to the other room, the one you took me to before." she looked to the floor, "There aren't any windows."

* * *

Disappointment Road, Colorado.

The sports car vibrated with power, speeding down the straight highway at ninety five miles per hour and counting. The tailwind pushed the vehicle forward, buffeting past its sleek sides and whistling through the cracked windows. A pronghorn antelope stepped into the road without warning, the gray Noble M600 slamming on the brakes and drifting sideways to avoid hitting the animal. A cheeky transmission flitted into his processor, **::** _I thought you were going to liquefy it._ **::**

**::** _I would have if I were in the air._ **::**

**::** _Has anyone ever told you that you're a bit trigger happy?_ **::**

**::** _Want me to start listing names?_ **:: **Whirl offered as Sideswipe's alt-mode pulled up next to his, engine revving and tailpipe spitting flame. **::** _Flashy aft Lamborthingy._ **::**

**::** _It's called a Lamborghini, Aventador. Italian make._ **:: **he shot back smugly, shoving a data-burst file of the machines' performance stats into the com line, **::** _Jealous?_ **::**

**::** _Only if it comes with an iPhone._** ::**

**::** _What? What's an iPhone? _**::**

**::** _No idea but it says you can sync your dashboard screen to your iPhone and make calls by talking to it. Try iPhoning Prime. Go get an iPhone. Tell him he was cooler before he learned to use the sword-axe combination._** ::**

Sideswipe rolled back on his tires, throwing his shift into reverse and pulling out the opposite way,** :: **_Why do you hate him?_** ::**

**::** _I don't hate him, I just don't respect him._** :: **Whirl followed the other Mech, both driving only slightly above the speed limit, the same wind that had been an advantage before was now blasting against their windshields.

**::** _That sounds worse, he's a hero._ **::**

**::** _No, he's an overrated and overestimated idol. He makes mistakes, he isn't perfect. He arrested me for doing a public service. He should have been thanking me instead of throwing me into Garrus-1* like a common murderer._ **::**

**::** _I thought the Senate sent you to prison, not Prime._ **::**

**::** _They wouldn't have if Orion Pax didn't feel the need to scratch Megatron's backplates_. **::**

The red vehicle swerved in his lane uneasily, **::** _It couldn't have been like that, you didn't see everything._ **::**

**::** _I didn't need to, I was imprisoned in Garrus-1 because as a law enforcer I was told by the Senate to kill a miner named Megatron while he was in custody, but I spent too much time punching the slag off his face before finishing the job. Pax arrested me, they broke me out and Pax was pretty upset, so he re-arrested me and shot off my fragging leg. End of story._ **::**

**::** _That doesn't sound like Optimus._ **::**

**::** _Wow, thank you for sharing that revolutionary discovery. You're right, Orion, must have had some pure and moral motive for his actions. As always. You know while I was in prison every Decepticon sympathizer knew what I did to their precious Megatron, thanks to your idol's publicity. They weren't exactly happy about it either, but I don't need to elaborate for you to guess what steps they took to teach me a lesson._ **::**

**::** _But you're an Autobot, you couldn't have been angry with Optimus forever._ **::**

**::** _I saved a call, I called Pax. I gave him a tip about a Senate plan to hit one of the cities, for revenge you know? I didn't give a slag about saving anyone. I wanted the Senate offlined, for taking my servos and using me. For throwing me away._ **::** the Noble's headlights flashed at Sideswipe, merely glints in the midday sun, **::** _I was in the Kaon Security Service when Megatron went full deadly force and started the war, that I could have stopped you know, if I had been able to kill him before Pax showed up. Half those NAILs we policed together back on Cybertron? They would have worshiped me for preventing this mess._ **::**

**::** _You can't believe that without Megatron the war wouldn't have happened, there would have been some other Transformer, Starscream would hav-_ **::**

**::** _Starscream's smart but he's a coward, he would have never stuck his neck out like Megatron did. It doesn't matter, anyways, Pax was all Primed out by then and he asked me to join the cause. Forgiveness as a weapon of war, it was very Optimus Prime. That was basically it, bounced around a bit, changed my name, changed it back. Joined the Wreckers, tried to kill a Wrecker, got kicked out of the Wreckers…and Optimus is still an aft._ **::**

**::** _Over half of your bad history was your fault, and he's given you another chance. That has to mean something._ **::**

**::** _Please, he's keeping an optic on me._ **::**

Sideswipe couldn't argue with that, he was positive it was partly true. No one wanted a bot like Whirl running around without supervision. But he didn't want to believe what Whirl said, he didn't want to see Optimus through those lens. There wasn't an Autobot online that didn't have a dark side, some ruthless corner they hid in their processors for appropriate times; he just didn't want a peek at Prime's. Everyone knew what the situation was before the war, how allied and close Orion Pax and the gladiator Megatron were, they were friends. Sideswipe couldn't judge, he and Sunstreaker had been Decepticon supporters for a short time, before things went too far south to fix. And Whirl wasn't innocent; he dug his own holes with the barrel of a loaded gun. Listening to him was no better than listening to a ranting NAIL.

An outside transmission pinged their private line and Whirl let it through before Sideswipe could, **::** _Jazz and 'Hide commed from only two hundred and eighty four miles away, they're less than a solar cycle* from base._ **:: **Bumblebee's voice spilled, his excitement tingling their processors. Of course he would feel that way, as they were his oldest mentors, and some of Sideswipe's oldest friends. Jazz knew Optimus before everything, even before Megatron had Cybertronians chanting his name. Nostalgia hit the Lamborghini like a blast from an ion cannon, he missed a lot of things, Sunny being one of them, but this was the best news he had heard since being back on Earth.

Whirl didn't seem to be affected, breezily replying with nonchalance, **::** _Tell me this means you're going on a trip. A long and busy trip full of distractions._ **::**

Either the yellow Camaro didn't catch the tease, or more likely, he was far too occupied with his emotions to care about passing jokes, **::** _I don't know, but Prime wants you two back underground. Skywarp attacked a Human airbase in DC yesterday._ **::**

**::** _On our way._ **:: **Sideswipe assured him, engine purring in tandem with Whirl's as the two accelerated, throwing themselves into the road and skirting the curves faster than their alt-modes should have been able to handle.

* * *

*vorn, equivalent to eighty three Earth years.  
*Garrus-1, a maximum security prison facility on Luna 2, one of Cybertron's moons.  
*solar cycle, equivalent to one Earth day.

**Author's note:** I really stretched this bad boy to get some plot points in, as well as explain a lot of what's going on. You get some tension from all sides- between Lennox and Ironhide, Charlotte Mearing and the government angle, Marvin and Lennox, of course I couldn't leave out the 'bots in Utah. So much angsty history. But things will start getting better of course, before I make them sad again. Reviews are lovely.


	5. Chapter Four

**VARIETY FAMILIAR, CHAPTER FOUR.**  
10:00 AM on October 7th.  
Temporary Autobot Headquarters in Bluff, Utah.

Do your dirty work without me.  
Say you're best when no one can see.  
–This Kids Not Alright, AWOLNATION.

* * *

Bumblebee's processor was reeling, he couldn't quiet the endless stream of information that kept swirling around and egging him on. He couldn't help it, he missed them. He felt like a sparkling, insecure and ashamed; he didn't want the others to know how desperate he was. Especially not Sideswipe or Smokescreen, they wouldn't see it the same way. They wouldn't see _him_ the same way, and he was supposed to be the strong one. Optimus didn't promote him to second in command because he was soft, he did it because he believed he had matured enough to lead his teammates. And leading meant everything, making sure they stayed safe, stayed together, and respected each other. But he really missed his mentors, to the point of pain. Crushing pressure in his chestplates and knots in his damaged throat cables made it hard to slip into recharge, he hadn't told anyone, but Jolt had been manually shutting him off for over an orn* now.

For a Transformer, five Earth years of team separation shouldn't feel like a long time. Their lifespan was absurd and Bumblebee didn't know that before he met Sam, before coming to this planet, they had more years than was logical. They didn't die unless they were killed, or left to decay. Humans had to be born, live, and die in a speed trap. Everything they did or felt was fast, fleeting. The scout worried that their living habits may have rubbed off on him, and it scared him. What was five years to a hundred? What was five years to a few million? This shouldn't be a big deal. He shouldn't hurt the way he did, and he knew the image flashes were wrong. They happened when he was awake, at the worst times, like when he was sparring with Arcee or trying to listen to Prime's briefings. They flared behind his optics in such vivid detail, at first he thought they were real, that Megatron was tearing his vocals out all over again or Ravage was slicing into his armor as he struggled in muted agony. It wouldn't be so bad if they weren't real memories, but they were and that made it worse. The most recent flashes were of Optimus' corpse, wearing a blast hole courtesy of Megatron where his spark chamber should be. When that memory obscured his vision, for the fist time, he had been driving in his alt-mode alone in the canyon; he was on the com with Smokescreen when he nearly lost control. He almost flipped, but managed to drift to the side and land against a guard rail and a barbed wire fence instead. Smokescreen had been frantic, demanding if there was Decepticon activity, repeating his name over and over again, begging him to respond so he could do something. Bee had never snarled at anyone before, and he hadn't since, but at that moment he really needed his friend to shut up so he could pull himself together and get back to the base. Upon arriving in the basement floor cavern, Smokescreen had been waiting for him, but he didn't comment on the scratches to his yellow paint or the banged up passenger door. In fact he ignored it completely, pretended it wasn't there, punched Bee in the shoulder and said goodnight. That was the end of that.

Jolt was trying to test him for processor disorders, and he only knew because every time he came back online from recharge the Medic's coding changes were strewn about just like the clutter on his work space in the med bay. Bee had read them at first, the personal notes the blue Mech made next to modifications or frayed links he had tried mending, but he stopped when he realized there was too much wrong with him, too many frayed ends, too many coded notes that Jolt never meant for him to find. It wasn't the apprentice's fault though, he was doing his best, trying to do what Ratchet would have done but he wasn't as experienced or skilled. The two didn't talk about it, and Bumblebee didn't tell Jolt to stop. He wanted him to keep trying to fix him, he wanted someone to make all this go away and if the don't ask don't tell policy of his and Jolt's medical relationship kept the rest of the team from losing respect for him then he would consider it a bonus. Enough small changes in his systems and maybe the switch would flip from 'damaged' to 'functional'.

Whirl watched from across the training gym, he had been pretending to adjust the sights on his neutron assault rifle for way longer than warranted innocent intent. He knew the only reason Bee hadn't noticed his audience was because he was obviously in a fritz. Whirl didn't like to admit it out loud, but he loved watching someone else with more problems than he had, it gave him enough good excuses to justify his past. At least he wasn't as glitched up as 'insert name of Autobot most recently glitched up'. Yeah, it definitely helped. Arcee entered the room and walked right past his bench, before spinning around on her heel to look at him quizzically, "How long have you been in here staring down the barrel of that thing?"

So someone had noticed, which would have been spark warming if he wasn't enjoying his feature film a la insect, **::** _At least half as long as Bee has been shadow boxing himself, I'd say over a couple cycles. His stamina is amazing! Does that turn you on? I'm a little turned on._ **::**

The femme narrowed her optics at the ex-Wrecker. She had gotten quite skilled at ignoring his uncontrolled, and often violent or inappropriate, brand of humor. **::** _Has he said anything to you?_ **::**

**::** _No. _**::** He tossed the rifle to the side and stood, taller than the motorcycle, **::** _The first rule of Fight Club is not talking about Fight Club._ **:: **A pincer was jabbing the air in front of her, for emphasis. She cut the com link with a heavy sigh.

They thought he didn't notice, but he did. He knew the pair was speaking in coms after hearing silence answer Arcee's question, but he didn't care about what. It didn't matter, Optimus wasn't budging, and no Autobot was permitted to go to Albuquerque. It was too close to home, they could compromise the Bluff location if they were followed back or tracked. Bumblebee stopped moving to lower his fisted servos and end his session. Tie, the score his optics displayed above the helm of his shadow blinked. It was the safest way for him to spar nowadays, in case an image decided to thrill him while sparring with one of his friends. He would ask Optimus one more time, he would find a reason for a rendezvous with Ironhide and Jazz, other than his processor completely hammering him from the inside out.

He stalked out of the gym, without acknowledging Whirl or Arcee's stares. He didn't want them to ask what he was doing or what was wrong, because he didn't have any answers that wouldn't cause alarm. Telling the bots you were supposed to look out for that their designated higher up was seeing things and had trouble recharging and was probably more information than they needed to hear. But he knew what would happen if he got worse, if anyone found out before he told them himself, and it wasn't a road he wanted to drive down. He could hang on, he could wait for Jolt. Jolt would fix him before it went that far, he would at least keep it from getting any worse, and with all those code changes something had to be working.

Sam was out of college and working with a progressive technology company, he and Carly bought a nice place in DC, but Bee didn't see them often anymore. The last time had been more than an Earth year ago and Sam had grown distant. Distracted. He didn't have much time to catch up or go for a drive, forget video games in the garage. Maybe their friendship before was another part of the Human life cycle, fleeting and quick, before moving onto something else. He wasn't angry or upset, but sad seemed to fit. Sam not needing him meant that he was safe and out of danger, he did his job as a Guardian and now it was over. Sam got a second chance at a normal life free of alien influence, and that included Bumblebee. He doubted he would visit the couple again; he owed it to Sam to stay away. But the boy would never have a cooler car than his first, the scout's door wings fluttered fondly.

Though, walking two floors of the base had lost its attraction when it became apparent that Optimus didn't want to be found. He wasn't at his usual spot in the star map projection room or speaking with Jolt in the med bay. Bumblebee gave up, pinging him to open a line, but it was met with resistance. He pinged again, more resistance. That was unusual; Optimus had never avoided talking to him before. A small flicker of fear licked at his spark, what if Prime had found out about everything he wasn't telling him? He didn't think for a second that he would be angry, and avoidance wasn't like him. Before he could dwindle into a panic the line opened, an apologetic Optimus commed first, **::** _Forgive me, I was preoccupied._ **::**

**:: **_I uh, it's fine but, where are you? _**::**

**:: **_Outside in the gorge training with Smokescreen._ **::**, there was a heavy pause, **::** _I know what this is about._ **::**

Bumblebee made a worried warbling sound aloud where he stood in one of the base's halls, it's strange tone echoing back at him, **::** _Then do you require I say it?_ **::**, the scout instantly regretted his poor wording choice, wincing.

**::** _We cannot risk endangering the Humans while we search for Skywarp and the other rouge Decepticons._ **::**

**::** _Don't you think it's a little late for that?_ **::**, he sent tentatively, a soft transmission laced with a data-burst file of multiple attacks, complete with footage of N.E.S.T. responding.

Prime's unease trickled into the com, **::** _Ironhide and Jazz are assisting them, any interference from additional Autobots will draw more attention to their mission. _**::**

**::** _With respect, Optimus, I only see that as another reason for us to reunite and ally ourselves. Separation doesn't do us any favors, let the 'Cons divide their ranks, let us have the team advantage over them! What holds you back?_ **::**

**::** _The losses._ **::**, Prime admitted, **::** _I am responsible for nearly as many casualties as Megatron was, intentions aside. I must do all I can to ensure this species safety. _**::**

**::** _Then let us help them, or let them help us. We don't need to do this alone and we need Skywarp's dark energon signature, you know we do._ **::**

**::** _Take Sideswipe with you._ **::**

Bumblebee choked back his words, he wasn't expecting his leader to give in so easily, and being able to go see Jazz and Ironhide was the only thing on his processor right now. Primus, the universe wasn't out to get him all the time, he thought with relief. **::** _What about Whirl? I thought Sides was…watching him._ **::**

There was a churning feeling sifting through the com line, as Prime reasoned out what to do with the new teammate, **::** _Let him go too, if he is interested. It's best if the Human's know of any new arrivals immediately, to avoid further conflict. Director Mearing wasn't pleased the last time we gave our Autobots shelter unannounced._ **::**

**::** _They won't be comforted by his appearance. _**:: **Bee was referring to his strange one optic'd helm, shot off pedes and mutilated servos, Whirl didn't look like an Autobot and more than half the time he never acted like one. If the Humans pulled guns, he would meet them all the way. It could go very badly, letting them get acquainted.

Prime didn't share his concern, **::** _I trust you to ensure safety, and understanding._ **::  
**

* * *

3:00 PM  
Kirtland Air Force Base in Albuquerque, New Mexico.

Marvin watched the alien from behind the safety of her second-floor hangar room window, Lennox had said it was the best they could do for now, but she didn't mind. The small space and simple décor was growing on her, it was peaceful and soothing. Something she needed after losing what few pieces of the world she had been holding onto and the vantage point was ideal for observation. From up here the entire hangar was visible if she craned her neck, if she got really interested. Right now Jazz was her favorite to watch, he was funny but spoke with a sense of knowing like he knew more than anyone else did, had seen more. He was pretty too, she thought, with his silver armor that sparkled under the harsh fluorescent lights and brilliant blue eyes that caught everything. He and Epps ran missions together a lot, the Sergeant had told her, and his Pontiac Solstice alt-mode was nearly as pretty as he was. She had seen him transform into it and drive out of the hangar, or transform back into himself upon arrival to the hangar. Either way, she found it sad that someone so interesting would be fighting in a war for millions of years, though they said it was over now. Marvin always thought that aliens would be peaceful, better than Humans, not the same. Disappointment wasn't what she wanted to feel upon learning about them, with every word Lennox said she could feel herself sinking that much more. Nothing was supposed to be like this. Walter wasn't supposed to die, she wasn't ever supposed to be right, and at this moment she wasn't supposed to be curious or inquisitive. Her grandfather died five days ago, she should be grieving and angry, and not wanting to leave this room she was hiding in. But she had so many trivial questions that she wanted the answers to.

They were a perfect distraction from the pain, when she let her mind wander and try to put together the picture Lennox painted for her with his explanations she could almost forget what happened. Too busy wondering what Cybertron looked like, how they might have lived before their war. Why was there a war in the first place? Who started it, what was it about? Why were Primes important and why was the Decepticon Skywarp looking for one? How could they turn into Human built vehicles and what did they turn into before they came here? Lost lost lost…she should be crying, but when she raised her arm to wipe her eyes she found that she already was. Funny, how the rare things go unnoticed the more they stick around.

Jazz's head turned and tilted upwards, mechanical orbs catching her gaze and she blinked away in embarrassment, moving the curtain to hide behind it. She shouldn't stare at them, they were sentient, they were people sort of and staring was rude. Marvin peered out from the curtain, and he jerked his head in a beckoning gesture. No! She didn't want to go out there on the hangar floor! Well, she did, really badly, but not because he asked her to. The silver bot gave her a smile, the metal in his mouth curving slightly in an attempt to look harmless and she knew he was, but she still shook her head at him and backed away from the window to sit on the bed, drawing her knees to her chest and trying to focus on the cartoons dancing across the television screen. It wasn't personal; she knew he and the other bot had saved her, the soldiers and the other survivors but she didn't want to face the world yet. Not this new world where the rules were unclear and the surface could shift under her feet without warning, it felt too much like a risk. Not that she had anything left to lose, because lately she only wanted something to hold onto.

The tapping noise at her window was growing more annoying by the second, causing her to finally look over in annoyance that quickly faded into a glimmer of happiness. Lennox was on the other side, casually tapping as if he were teasing a fish, with a familiar jacket slung over his shoulder. Marvin flew from the bed and to the door, swinging it open and practically attacking him with her excitement, "Where did you get that?!"

"I've had it, but Ironhide and I have been busy so I hadn't been able to duck out to get it to you until now." He lied; he just didn't want to give her a bloody memento. Truth was that he and Ironhide hadn't spoken in days. They worked on what they were told to and nothing else, they used to train together for good times sake too but that had stopped when the talking did. He hated it, but he hated the secrets between brothers even more.

The two stood on the deck as Lennox handed her the coat, she ran her fingers over the patches on the left arm, some were military, others novelty. It was Walter's pilot's jacket, all worn brown leather and off-white sheepskin trim and collar. Last time she had seen it he was wearing it, and she had been clutching it in fear, and it was soaked in blood. Lennox washed it; the sudden realization hit her like a sack of bricks. Of course he did, who else would have?

Marvin swallowed, words scratching at her throat, "Thanks, for everything. I-I know you have better things to do." She said quietly, hating herself for the short time she had spent sulking in that room. How selfish, after what the soldiers in N.E.S.T. have been through…she couldn't hold a candle to their strength. She was ashamed.

Lennox reached out a hand, resting it on her shoulder, "I want to. I know what it's like, _losing_ people." He smiled then, "I also have a daughter, and I think I would be pretty proud if she grows up to be even half as brave as you are."

She peered up at him, "You have a baby?" a ghost of the excitement from before playing on her face.

He laughed, "Yeah, she uh, she's four years old. And her best friend is-" he cut himself off, nearly biting his tongue at the force, _Ironhide_, he was about to say.

"Where is she now?"

"DC." He answered, thankful that she hadn't noticed his distress, "We video call when I'm working, well, I video call, she tries to get me 'out of the evil box.'"

"When you're working," she echoed, "you say it like you're away from your family a lot."

A crooked smile then, bittersweet, "Love the job, not the hours."

Her eyes fell to her sleeve, where the bold white letters demanded attention, she raised it, looking at them before flashing it to Lennox, he shrugged, "USAF?"

"I wanted to be a pilot." She explained, "Fighter pilot, like my grandpa used to be. We have better jets now though; he was in those old planes, with the shark's teeth painted on the hull."

"Not anymore?"

"I don't know. It sounds dumb now, I mean, what with _them_." Marvin laughed lightly, looking over at where Jazz was standing by the deck's bridge, listening in she had no doubt.

"Hey, we're not obsolete yet," he protested, "our guys can bring the heat."

She thought about the base back in Washington, how Skywarp turned it into a war zone in under five minutes. "Not like they can." She mumbled more to herself than him.

"I don't have a come back for that," Lennox huffed honestly, turning and walking to the railing, "but you get to see a couple more, got the news this morning, Bumblebee and Sideswipe are on their way to…to…say hi or whatever I don't really know. Should be here any minute."

"Their names are never _not_ going to amuse me." She giggled, following him to sit on the edge with her legs dangling over the deck, one arm wrapped around the yellow support railing and the other holding the bunched up jacket close. The Colonel smirked at her comment, giving her a nudge with his boot, "They probably don't think much of ours either."

No, she agreed silently, they probably didn't. Below them the soldiers and workers were in a flurry, orders barked back and forth and things were being moved out of large parking spaces. Ironhide was over in front of another bridge further down from their deck, speaking with the lady Lennox identified as Charlotte Mearing on eye level. Jazz, who didn't seem to be doing anything in particular, was standing in the same place he had been since he tried to coax her from her room but he was visibly tense and kept swiveling to look at the sliding hangar doors. She didn't know if it was a good tense or a bad tense though, if the base was attacked an alarm would go off. Wouldn't it?

"Are the other two good guys?" She asked, shaking out her grandfather's pilot jacket and shrugging it on over the red hoodie.

"Oh, yeah, they are." Lennox nodded, watching Ironhide get increasingly agitated with Mearing, the weapons specialist could have just come to him about whatever he needed, the stubborn rust bucket. "But we haven't heard any news or talk from other Autobots in a few years; this is kind of a big deal, since we know that they've been with Optimus Prime, their leader, in that time. They know where he is, we don't and we'd like to."

"I thought they were on N.E.S.T.'s side, why wouldn't you know where their leader is?"

"Good question." His bitter words were overtaken by the sound of the hangar doors screeching open, letting the wind and rain blow in, a few shouts rang out from the main floor and a yellow Camaro zipped through the opening, black stripes glistening with water droplets. Behind him a blue-gray Noble M600 and flashing red Aventador growled menacingly, and surprise shot through Marvin. She hadn't expected that sort of entrance, they were gorgeous, and it was becoming clear that the Cybertronians had good taste in Human machinery. Two workers pushed the huge doors shut with a loud clang, the wet tire tracks from the three newcomers branding the smooth shiny concrete.

The yellow one fell apart when it reached Jazz, rebuilding itself into a taller and heavier bot with the roundest eyes she had ever seen. They were electric blue, the standard color. It reached forward to clasp Jazz's forearm and the two searched each other's faces, she got the feeling this was meaningful, something private, when the yellow one scrolled through what sounded remarkably like radio stations, "_It's been a long time – teacher - too long - please don't taaake, my sunshine, awaaay – arrangements have to be made – duty calls!_"

"He can't talk?" she whispered to Lennox, he nodded, still watching.

Ironhide joined them, immediately greeting Bumblebee the same way and the three seemed to relax almost simultaneously. The scout wanted to say more, but he couldn't, and it clawed at his spark viciously. He settled for data-burst files, getting his mentors up to speed and lacing the transmissions with feelings of sorrow, relief, and more recently, happiness. They understood, eyeing him with fondness and Ironhide rested a servo on his shoulder. He didn't need to talk to tell them how hard the last few years had been, they already knew.

Sideswipe rolled into one of the freshly cleared parking spaces, Whirl screeching into the one next to him. He wasn't touchy feely, he wasn't even mentally feely, not with anyone that wasn't Sunstreaker. He was thrilled to see his two old war buddies, but he didn't need to bear his spark to make it known. Besides, Whirl was in the com ranting on about how weird it might feel to step on a meatbag and if they would stick to his pede afterward. It was a real mood killer to say the least; he growled at the ex-Wrecker and popped his doors open to transform. Marvin squeaked, pulling her legs back over the deck as the red supercar changed into a sleek round looking bot with wheeled feet directly below her. He drew two blades from each arm before sheathing them again quickly, his eyes, standard blue, flickered up to Lennox's form leaning on the railing, "Give me something, how much trouble are we in with your Director?"

The Colonel laughed heartily, genuinely, "Nod, apologize, and don't take anyone's head off."

"That bad?! Come on, we had post-war damage control. Cut us some slack." Sideswipe exclaimed, air puffing out of what would be his nose, he looked like he finally noticed Marvin, gaping at him in wonder, "Won't your face get stuck like that if you don't move it?" he inquired, seriously not grasping the concept of the old joke.

She stuttered, blinking at him, "S-sorry, you're really beautiful."

Lennox snorted and shook with mirth, dropping his head to his arms. The red warrior's engine purred, "Takes one to know one, fleshie."

Marvin backtracked, a tint of an embarrassed blush on her cheeks, "I didn't, uh; I meant your alt-mode."

He wasn't able to reply, Mearing was stomping her way over to the Mech, right below his pedes and wildly waving an arm at Whirl, who rolled back away from her and gave his horn a blare. Fragger, Sideswipe thought in frustration. "Who is this? I was informed last minute that two of you were coming here, and after the silent treatment you think you'd be more than upfront and honest with us when you bring a plus one. What is this, your babysitting job?"

Sideswipe growled lowly, but Bee saved him from answering, walking over and kneeling in beside him to calm the Director. "_Enterprise crewmember – stranded – brothers in arms – stand united and face judgment da-ay-ay!_"

Whirl's alt-mode hissed, pieces shifting and slamming into place with an erratic motion that Marvin couldn't keep up with, the bot taking the car's place was tall and sharp. He leaned forward, a weird hand supporting him as metal clicked into his back and propeller-like circles slid below his elbow joints, a yellow optic flared at Mearing, "Watch it meatbag, I've been driving for five cycles with these two glitches and I'm a little slagged about the no gun rule that's in effect."

She sputtered, "Excuse me?"  
"Right answer." He threw in response.

Ironhide's voice cut into the space in surprise, "Why would you bring Whirl here?!"

Sideswipe scoffed, "Because the Director's right, _I'm babysitting._"

"Enjoy the shit you're going to be cleaning off my aft later, Sides. Stupid fragging entitled-"

"_Laaay down your arms, give uuup the fight._" Bumblebee interrupted Whirl, "_We don't need no, education – back in black – we're not going to take it – anymooore!_"

"Wait, what does that mean? Where's Optimus?" Mearing demanded, looking to the Camaro for answers as he seemed to be the only one communicating any useful information. And she needed it, badly. In fact, five years ago would have been a nice time for some sort of update or greeting card, instead of five years late with a new verbally hostile-deformed robot pal.

"_Ski Utah this winter – not far now – seal team six regroup – Thor you've got the lighting, light the bastards up._"

Everyone fell silent then, eyes and optics lost in their thoughts, Marvin cleared her throat and whispered to Lennox, but it sounded shouted in the quiet, "So is the band back together again?"

"Optimus is in Utah?" Lennox blurted, staring at Ironhide in astonishment, "Of all places, he's right down the road when we need him most." He didn't mean to ignore her, but he was in shock.

Ironhide sighed, air blowing over his vents, "William, you have to understand. We didn't want-"

"Anything to happen? Didn't want to work with N.E.S.T.? Work with _me?_" He forgot about the small audience surrounding them, "We had Skywarp, _fucking Skywarp_, a goddamn Seeker, blow a base in DC sky high! And he got away, because we're so screwed up behind our own lines that we can't focus long enough to take down one sorry piece of scrap metal and save seventy eight people." He scoffed, shaking his head and running a quivering hand over his face, "_Seventy eight people_ and Optimus was busy skiing in Utah. That's cute. I hope you assholes had a nice vacation, because it was hell down here."

Sideswipe glared, engine revving in anger, "Frag you! Our planet was _restored_ and the war was _over_, a war that lasted millions of Earth years, what did you want us to do? Play hall monitor with you guys? It wasn't easy, you know, trying to get order up there. Guess who got to Cybertron before us? _NAILs_, that's an acronym for non-affiliated indigenous life-forms, your equivalent of citizens. They were pissed at us, why do you think we came back? You selfish son of Unicron, meatbags are all the same. Only thinking of yourselves, wanting us to _save you_ all the slagging time."

"Oh?! It wasn't _our_ Allspark that brought _your enemies_ down on Earth, buddy. As far I'm concerned, yes, you Autobots owe it to the Human race to clean up your mess." Mearing snarked, "Colonel Lennox is right, and I'm sure any _meatbag_ who knew the story, would say the same."

"Except none of you know the story, since we've been here on this rock no one cared about our fight! It was only about saving you, _our war wasn't important_, it wasn't up for consideration. You asked for the keys to the convertible and Optimus gave them to you, but when it was time for us to go home, a home we haven't seen in more lifetimes than you're capable of counting, you lose your processors! Humans aren't the only beings in the universe; we all wanted something out of this. _Frag_, Whirl wants his servos back but he's too much of an aft to get them fixed."

"Leave me out of this lover's spat; this is my first time on this dirty planet. Unless someone has high-grade lying around here, I'd get involved for that."

"Shut up!" Sideswipe snarled at him, only to resume his rant at Mearing and Lennox, "Your organization needs to take a step back and start looking at the bigger picture, we're not _machines_. We're not here to _serve you_, we don't _owe you anything_. And seventy eight people? Try taking a crack at calculating how many Cybertronians permanently offlined while we sat here helping you ungrateful organics, we should have left this place as soon as we had the Allspark." His tone dwindled, faltering, "None of you know how much we sacrificed to ensure your safety. So how about a little more respect?"

Bumblebee didn't stop the Lamborghini, he wasn't sure if he should. Everything he said was striking a chord with the other Autobots, because it was partly true and he knew they couldn't leave things like this _unsaid_. Whirl was the only one who was staying neutral, but maybe he was mistaking that for being entertained, the ex-Wrecker had a peculiar sense of humor and he had never been involved with the happenings on Earth before this. Jazz was in his com line, sending data-burst files from the past five years, trying to catch Bee up on their end like he had theirs in Utah. There weren't any words, the special operations Mech was musing. Ironhide looked like someone was melting down his armor, and perhaps that's what it felt like when someone you see as a brother holds that much animosity towards you. He wouldn't know, but he felt bad for his mentor all the same.

Lennox was fuming, "Explain that to _her_." he said flatly, tilting his head to indicate Marvin, who flinched when all nine optics fell on her. "Yeah take a good look."

"Um, no, don't."

"Her name is Marvin Reeves, she's seventeen Earth years old, and she's the one survivor I pulled out of the base in DC. The last member left in her family was her grandfather, Walter Reeves, who didn't make it. She's wearing his jacket. So maybe next time when you think that we _don't need you_, you can ask her how the weather was on October third in Bloomingdale."

Tears stung Marvin's eyes, burning. That wasn't fair, he shouldn't have done that, she wanted to run to her room but they were all gathered right in front of it. Instead she scrabbled backwards on the deck, standing to run the other way. Anywhere away from the stares and the unwanted attention, this was their fight, not hers! How dare he do that, put her on the spot and dangle her loss in front of her face. He didn't mean to be insensitive, he was worked up, but it was still wrong. Lennox called something after her, but she didn't hear what it was and she didn't stop. No one followed her.

Whirl mimicked an explosion, twisting his pincers together to add to the imitation. Lennox scowled at him, "Seriously, who the_ hell _are you?"

"Not the tiny glitch standing in front of me, _nice move_ fleshbrain! You always make femmes cry?"

Okay, too intense. Bumblebee stepped in, a servo pushing Whirl back from the deck. "_Dammit Jim, I'm a doctor not a – police officer!_"

"He's right. We're all revved up, and both sides have made good points, but we've always been in this _together_. We can sort out personal problems," Jazz looked pointedly between Lennox, Ironhide and Sideswipe, "some other time."

"Why didn't Optimus come here himself? Why did he send Cyclops in his place?" Mearing asked, treading carefully. To be frank, Sideswipe made her jumpy enough when he was quiet, so she wasn't too keen on seeing him angry again. He was currently ignoring the group now, looking in the direction Marvin ran off to.

"That one's new." Whirl mumbled, scanning the Internet for the Greek myth.

"_Relations were – tense – we keep on waiting, waiting on the world to change._"

The Director stared at Bumblebee for a moment, mulling over his broadcast, "You're telling me he was avoiding the conversation we're having right now? Letting his soldiers clean up the mess?"

"_Baby baby nooooo – dad's on a hunting trip, and he hasn't been home in a few days – Jefferson Starships, because they're horrible and hard to kill._"

Lennox's eyes widened, of course, he thought, of course. He jogged the length of the deck quickly until he reached the metal stairwell, running down and pulling a computer tower out from under the desk by Whirl's parking space, the latter stepping sideways. "Optimus is looking for the stray Decepticons, how is he going to find them? Energon signal, that's how these guys find each other and Skywarp was the last 'Con we got dark energon off the pavement from, only our tracking systems," he grunted as he pried the backing off the tower, "_suck_, compared to Cybertronians. We can't find any bot by any energon signal."

Bumblebee's radio blared a game show applause, "_You got it!_"

"Thing is, we destroy any concentrated energon after the techies catalogue it in N.E.S.T.'s database, but we have digital copies of the core signature. I bet my next day off that's what you need, am I right Bee?"

The scout made a whistling sound through his damaged vocals, nodding and taking the computer hard drive Lennox handed to him, it was tiny in his servos, but he would be able to download its contents later and get them to Jolt.

"Why couldn't Jazz or Ironhide have done this?" Mearing was skeptical, peering over the rim of her glasses at the two.

Ironhide rumbled, his pistons hissing as he relaxed back on his pedes, "We don't have Teletraan 1 here, a branch of the semi-sentient computer was built into the base in Utah by Ratchet before we left for Cybertron after the war ended. It's why Optimus returned there when the Autobots came back to Earth."

"The base's capacity isn't as big as this one, so when we head back tomorrow it's going to be with a smaller N.E.S.T. team." Sideswipe's sharp voice sliced into the conversation, "If we're all back in the game." Blue optics flared at Lennox, before sliding over him passively.

"Epps and I can get a few volunteers on board." He said in an even tone, but he didn't miss the way Mearing raised her eyebrows at him, "Crap, the kid."

"Count yourself one soldier short, Colonel. She goes where you go."

* * *

11:00 PM

The lights were out in the main hangar, except for the floor pods that lit the center drive like little moons. Marvin scrubbed at her teary face, trying to clear her eyes of the blur. Her bedroom door was locked and she couldn't get back in without asking someone for help, and taking that course of action didn't seem worth it. Instead, she sat leaning against the desk in the one eyed bot's parking space. It wasn't comfortable, the cold concrete made her butt feel sore and numb and there wasn't any way to rest her head unless she reclined completely, but that was just ridiculous. At least there was a nice view, she knew enough about cars to be appreciative of the one's the new comers chose for their alt-modes. Her tired gaze raked over the glossy gray-blue of the Noble M600, her eyelids felt like stones and at first she was positive the voice that met her ears was inside her head.

"Okay meaty, the staring I can handle, but the silent treatment is a little awkward."

She jumped to a start, "I'm sorry! I thought you were asleep."

Whirl made a clunking sound somewhere under his hood, "Yeah, because that doesn't make it any less fragging creepy. We don't sleep."

Marvin didn't say anything for several minutes, mulling over what that might mean. How did they keep track of the days if they didn't go to sleep every night?

"Why are you down here?" He broke the stillness, sounding bored, and she thought that perhaps he really was if he spent whole nights doing nothing.

"My door is locked-"

"You're going to recharge right there?" he laughed, a strange noise that vibrated his alt-mode's frame.

"Well I, it's not like I want to!" she defended herself, feeling childish for doing so.

The ex-Wrecker hummed, his passenger door popping from its seam, but no further. "Would this be more comfortable?" On his other side the red Lamborghini snarled a warning, headlights flashing. Whirl scoffed at it, "Suck my spike, _I'm making friends._"

"Um, it would be." She blinked in surprise, ignoring his latter comment and standing to walk over to the car, hand hovering above the door handle, "Are you sure you don't mind?"

"Sheesh, just get in before I change my processor and leave you on the ground."

She pulled open his door and climbed in, pulling her sock covered feet up on the pristine seat when he shut it himself. The smell inside was interesting, a tang of something she couldn't identify engulfed the area but it reminded her of when Epps and Ironhide drove her to the hangar days ago. The seat leaned back on its own accord, and she snuggled into it gratefully, letting her observations wander out the driver's window, to the Aventador she had a feeling was watching her. Sideswipe, she remembered his name, and he didn't like Whirl very much for some reason, "What are you doing?" she asked in pure curiosity.

The car rumbled under her, "Internet."

"What are you doing on the Internet?"

A static seemed to fill the air and she recognized the emotion in his response as excited, as if he were pleased someone had taken the time to ask. "Playing 'find the invisible cow'. You Humans may be squishy and fragile but you make up for it in resourcefulness."

That was amusing; she smiled into her arm, highly advanced alien robots playing dumb games to pass the time. And he thought it was resourceful. "How old are you?"

His frame shook again, "Older than you." A short quip, "Five hundred and eighty nine cows, Sides if you can top that in a breem* I'll stop lubricating in your energon."

There wasn't any answer from Sideswipe, but Whirl snickered at something. "What did he say? I didn't hear."

"He threatened me, it was adorable and motivating and thoughtful. He thinks I'll do something dangerous and you'll go splat. You're not worried about that are you meatbag?"

Marvin shook her head in his interior, and he hummed again, but it had a teasing tune to it. He was egging Sideswipe on, she knew. Trying to get a rise out of him, but she was being truthful; she didn't think any of the Autobots would intentionally harm her. There were so many feelings being tossed around earlier that afternoon from both species all angry or hurt about something, and that wouldn't have been an issue if one side didn't care about the other. Lennox and Ironhide came to mind, "Hey, Sideswipe, right?"

There was a confirming rev of his engine, and she continued, "How long has the Colonel known Ironhide?"

He didn't answer before Ironhide's voice came through Whirl's radio, "A long time in your species time units, since we came to Earth to find the Allspark."

"Oh."

**::** _Ooooh, wow, Sides you should not feel this guilty over a fleshie!_ **::** Whirl commed the open line, poking at the twin like he was a caged tiger.

**::** _Shut up._ **::**

**::** _Whirl, leave him alone._ **::** Bumblebee murmured, occupied with searching through the hard drive Lennox gave him. It had everything they needed and more footage of the rouge Decepticons, he could identify Knock Out in one but he wasn't too concerned about the discovery. He had a feeling that the Decepticon medic would be pretty lazy without direction or leadership. He might be one of the easiest to locate, and the possibility had him forwarding the information to Jazz who stored it in agreement, lowering on his shocks from the opposite side of the hangar beside Ironhide.

**::** _Is it misplaced sorrow for your lost sparktwin? Lost is the wrong word, after all he chose to ditch you! He's fine though, I would know; I mean I lied because I wouldn't know! Last I heard he went off the ship with Hoist and lost the com link an-_ **::**

Bumblebee swore loudly into the transmission when a squeal of tires pierced the air, breaking out of alt-mode with Jazz and Ironhide. His ion cannon transforming in the place of his servo with a whirr and a click, but it was a little late. Sideswipe had snarled viciously, his dual blades drawn with the deep violet of dried dark energon sparking weirdly in the illuminating light. He was crouched on his wheeled pedes, swearing in Cybertronian at Whirl, who had dumped Marvin on the ground and was laughing heartily, two neutron assault rifles cocked loaded and aimed at Sideswipe as he stood over her. She took the chance to get out of the way when the helicopter stepped forward, "Man you are _so easy!_ Is that all it takes?!"

"I'm going to _shove_ my fragging swords up your fragging tailpipe and rip you in two pieces from the inside out you son of a-"

"Hot." Whirl purred, hiding a snicker.

"_Stand down – don't make this – harder than it needs to be – I'll finish you like a cheesecake!_" Bumblebee blared, quickly evaluating who was the bigger threat and deciding on Sideswipe, tackling him to the ground and pinning him there, a servo pushing down on his backplates and his ion cannon fixed against his shoulder. He would blow it off if he had to, Jolt could fix the Lambo later. Jazz and Ironhide moved towards the still laughing Whirl, his yellow optic bouncing brightly with his shaking frame, he turned his guns on them, "I don't think so, walk away veterans. I'm ooookay." he spun the weapons, before subspacing them, "You're a sensitive Sparkeater!"

"You antagonized him!" Jazz bit out, and Sideswipe revved aggressively under Bee the clicks and zips of furious Cybertronian still pouring from his mouth.

"_Calm down – don't make me – don't want to do this – drastic measures._" The Camaro was begging, the radio flickering too fast through too many channels, his weapon was digging between the armor of his joint now and Bee could feel the barrel spinning against cables. But Sideswipe wasn't settling down, struggling against the scout and managing to get a servo free. The blade retracted, before the fisted appendage slammed against his faceplates. Ironhide lunged, forcing more weight on the Mech. He couldn't fight both of them and he knew it, his movements ceasing in surrender and words fading into growled English, "…nd no need to take my arm off I'm fine, _I'm fine_. Get the slag _off_ me."

Bumblebee obliged, slowly, rising and ignoring the warning his processor was pinging. It was a cracked optic lens, which would need to be replaced back at base. His cannon still pointed at Sideswipe when he slid to stand back up, the hangar floor under him split and crushed. Ironhide was fuming, expression contorted into one of rage. Jazz was hovering around Whirl, untrusting, "Get out of here, go for a drive." He directed at Sideswipe, whose vents were running at full power, struggling to cool him off. He could have killed Whirl for talking about Sunny like that; he had meant to kill him. Jazz was right. He really needed to get away from here.

He skated and transformed in motion, driving towards the hangar doors that parted when Ironhide hit a control panel by the bridge, he didn't check back or hit the com line. The rain was heavier now, washing the dirt and grit from his armor as he sped down the airstrip.

Inside all optics fell on Whirl, who shrugged, "What? It's like part one _therapy_, he'll be back with an apology and we can commence step two- talking it out."

"_Shoot to thrill, play to kill! I got my gun at the ready, gonna fire at will! Yea-ah-aah!_"

"Oh _so what_, like you've never sparred with a team member when you were bored. Or wait, do you just shadow box yourself now? That's weird...care to share why?"

Bee flinched visibly at the stab, and it didn't go unnoticed by his mentors who exchanged worried looks, making him feel like he was under a microscope. Whirl definitely had a talent, a talent for picking at someone's weaknesses, but he wasn't going to unearth Bumblebee's. He had too much at risk, "_Mr. Saaaandmaaan, bring me a dream._"

A panel in his shoulder opened with the song, a small projectile flying from it and hitting Whirl in the chassis, sending blue waves of electricity rippling over him as he collapsed in a pile of metal. His optic faded to black as he was forced into stasis. Jazz and Ironhide stared, Bee didn't know what to say, **::** _I got them from Jolt._ **:: **he huffed, transforming back into his alt-mode. They didn't comment, following suit and ignoring the gusts of wind and rain that slipped through the open hangar doors.

Marvin shivered from underneath the stair ramp, she was shocked, one second everything was fine and the next it was chaos. There was obviously a lot that she was missing when they talked in-between themselves, but even though she knew Whirl started it, she felt sad for him. No one acted like they liked him even before the spat, so maybe he didn't have any friends. Maybe he was alone too, which explained the excitement earlier when she was talking to him. He was flat on his back now, unconscious with his deformed legs bent at the knee joints, pincers to the side. His head was facing her direction but there wasn't any yellow light in it. Marvin crept forward, tips of her fingers touching his chest armor before flattening her palm on it. He was really warm, which wasn't saying too much since the rest of the hangar was freezing, especially now that the doors were open. She couldn't see the other Autobots, his body effectively hiding them from view and she let herself sit down and curl up against the heated metal.

Her mouth parted into a yawn, eyelids giving up the fight to stay awake and falling closed. That night she dreamt of flying an old war plane with shark's teeth painted on the hull, its engine would choke and Whirl's voice would ask if she was worried as it plummeted out of the sky. No, no she wasn't worried, why would she be worried?

* * *

*orn, equivalent to thirteen Earth days.  
*breem, equivalent to eight point three Earth minutes.

**Author's note:** sorry for taking forever, I have no excuse, but it's here now? Woohoo? I apologize in advance if there's any weird grammar mistakes, I've reread and edited this thing like a millions times but I get the feeling something's still off. Reviews are appreciated o3o


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